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Even though he didn't have much hope that the victim would survive his wounds without proper medical care soon, Greg managed to get the wound on the man's forehead to stop bleeding. Remembering that Allison said she had hit him four times, he checked the man for more wounds on his body, hoping that he didn't take all the hits to his head. And indeed, he had a broken arm and beginning bruising on his upper body. The CSI wasn't quite sure whether or not this was a good sign, since this could mean he was bleeding internally as well, but he needed to hope for the best right now. He had no idea how much time he had already spent in here, but was quite scared he'd have a lot more ahead of him. Depending on where Allison was planning to cross the boarder, he knew it would take hours, if she even planned on telling anyone he was here. He kept banging on the door occasionally, hoping someone would hear him, but knowing he was fooling himself into thinking anyone would need to get into the storage facility at this hour. All he could do now was wait, sitting down next to the victim and hoping he'd make it through the night.
When the victim started coughing again, Greg startled. "...Sir, can you hear me?" He had placed his flashlight so that the room was at least a little bit lit. He was able to look into the victim's face and to his surprise, his eyes were open. "Sir? Can you tell me your name?"
The man wanted to get up.
"No, no! Don't, stay down." He gently put his hands on him to keep him from getting up, but the man forcefully pushed Greg's hands away from him and sat up.
"What the hell's going on?!" he asked confused and disoriented. "Aaargh, damn it..." He just now realized his whole body was hurting. "What's wrong with my arm? I can't move it."
"I think it's broken. You should lie down, you're severely injured."
He touched the wound on his head. "...What is this?"
Greg had used a piece of his t-shirt to bandage the wound. "You've been hit with a wheelbrace."
"...What?!" He slowly remembered. "...That bitch! She did it, right?"
Greg slightly nodded.
"Where is she?"
Greg shook his head. "She panicked and locked us in."
"...You know her? Who is she?"
Greg raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"
"No." The man scooted over a little to lean against the wall. "God, it hurts so much..."
"...She claims she knows you."
"Yeah? Who did she say I am?"
"...Well, she was attacked a few months ago and thought you're the one who did it."
"So I'll die here inside my storage room because she confused me with someone else?" He patted himself down. "Where's my damn phone?"
"I suppose she took it, just like she took mine." Greg sighed. "I'm sorry, I tried to stop her but she had a gun."
The man nodded. "There's gotta be some way out of here. I... I'm not feeling too well, I'm dizzy."
"Here, lie down." Greg walked over to the man to help him, putting his jacket under his head.
"Thanks..."
Greg grabbed the flashlight and started looking around the storage room. It was a rather small space, but quite neatly organized.
"...What are you doing?"
Greg shrugged. "Just looking around if you don't mind. There's nothing else to do so..."
The man interrupted him as he yelled at the CSI. "I do mind! Stop it!"
He frowned. "...Sorry, I just..." As much as Greg was glad the man was still alive, he preferred when he was unconscious and not talking. "I'm getting impatient, I want out of here and need something to keep myself busy with."
"Find something else than my personal belongings."
He pointed the flashlight around. "Looks more like trash than belongings, but whatever," he said under his breath.
"Someone's gonna find us, right? Someone will notice you're gone and start looking for you, right?"
Greg sighed. "Yeah but... they don't know I'm here and there's no way for them to come here to look for me, unfortunately. What about you? Are you married or anything?"
"Yes but... She doesn't know I'm here, either."
"Great." He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "But she'll start looking for you everywhere, maybe she'll wind up here soon and..."
"She doesn't know about this place."
"...Really? You're storing her stuff away without her knowing?"
He moaned in pain as he tried to sit up again. "No, just my stuff."
He pointed his flashlight at the man's feet. "Those high heels over there don't look like they could fit you." He chuckled, but stopped when the man finally sat up with an angry look on his face. "...Sorry, I know, none of my business."
"You got that right."
Greg pointed his flashlight at the shoes he was just referring to for a few moments.
"...You know what? How about you give me that flashlight."
"What for?" Greg turned around to look at the man, but the man was already quite close to the CSI, grabbing the flashlight himself. The stern look on the man's face scared Greg a bit. "...You really shouldn't move so much, you know."
"I don't want you sniffing through my stuff, got it?"
Greg nodded. "Fine, let's just wait for help in silence, then."
Nick was getting nervous as he couldn't reach Greg on his phone at the start of the shift. It was quite unlikely for Greg not to show up without calling, so he decided to ask Brass to tell his guys to look out for him and his car while he drove over to Allison's, hoping Greg would be there. He knocked on her door quite violently. "Open up, Allison! It's Nick! Is Greg in there?" He looked around annoyed when he heard noise inside the motel room. He also spotted Greg's car parked there. "...Greg? I know you're in there!" As Nick proceeded to knock on the door again, he was almost hit by the bullet that came flying through it, missing him by mere inches. He ran for cover behind the car parked in front of the door next to Allison's room, but got hit by another bullet before he reached it. The bullet hit his back and he went down. It took him a moment to be able to stand up again, the bullet was stuck in the bulletproof vest he was wearing. He immediately called for backup. "Allison! Put your hands up and get out!"