Greg took a picture of the burned body doing his best to drown out the noise around him. A food truck had exploded, leaving many injured and the cook dead. Flack walked over to him.

"That's Derby Chasen. He was serving up gourmet grub from inside this world on wheels truck when it blew." Greg glanced over at Hawkes. He had been here on a date with a nurse from his old hospital when it blew. Thankfully they were both relatively unharmed. Mac was going to talk with him, considering the only reason Greg was here was because he had called in sick.

"Any other fatalities." He asked, leaning on his crutch as he adjusted. He didn't think there were any others, but he had gotten here after most of the victims were taken to the hospital.

"Amazingly no. Meanwhile, the feds are circling. You think we're looking at an act of terrorism here?" Greg bent down next to the body leaning on his crutch.

"Based on the position of the truck and the time of the blast, if someone wanted to cause maximum damage and loss of life, it sure doesn't feel like the time or place to do it." He pulled out a field test strip while Flack continued to talk.

"Maybe we're looking at a truck malfunction, then. I'll pull the vehicle inspection report, see what we get." The test strip turned magenta.

"Don't waste your time." Flack looked over at him.

"I just found traces of Triacetone Triperoxide."

"Doesn't sound too appetizing."

"It's not TATP is a powerful explosive made from household chemicals. Anyone with a smartphone can find the recipe online. I mean, it's part of the reason we can't bring liquids on planes." Flack shook his head.

"But why gourmet food trucks?" Greg picked up a piece of the propane tank.

"That's what we'll try to figure out."

Alison walked over to Lindsay, handing her a new field bag.

"Thanks." Alison looked around the scene spotting Greg closer to the food truck.

"I had to bring one by for Hawkes. I figured a few of you could use another." Lindsay rubbed the back of her neck.

"We are going to be lucky if we get out of here by dinner time." Alison nodded; looking at the grid pattern, they were only about a third of the way done and had been working all night.

"We might time out before we get this finished." Lindsay laughed at her comment.

"Wouldn't day shift love that?" She followed Alison's gaze over to where Greg was taking samples while balancing on one foot. "How is he doing." Alison took a deep breath.

"He passed his physical, but at what price. It will take him a month to get off that crutch." She flinched at the words looking over at Lindsay. She forgot that Messer still had to use a wheelchair. "Sorry."

"It's fine. He's actually doing really well; the doctor thinks that he should be able to move on to a cane in the next few weeks."

"That's great. I just hope he is more willing to use it than my husband is."

There was a long pause, and Lindsay grabbed her arm gently.

"Is everything alright you seem distant." Alison shoved down her emotions, smiling at her.

"Fine, just hungry." Lindsay waited for a heartbeat then nodded.

"I know after this I'm going to need two double cheeseburgers and a milkshake."

"Same."

Greg walked into the ME's office. Leaning heavily on his crutch. It had taken them the rest of the shift to clear the scene. But that meant that by the time he was at the lab again, Sid was done working.

"How's it going, Sid?" He asked, getting the doctor's attention.

"Oh, hey Greg." He said as he walked over to the body. "Derby Chase's death was obviously caused by the concussive force of the blast. Combined with severe burns and smoke inhalation. But in this case, at least it also appears our young chef's apron did more than just keep his clothes clean. It kept them intact. Which is significant because the aprons rubber lignin prevented the flames from coming into direct contact with the vic's T-shirt where it covered his torso." Sid peeled back the shirt. "And as a result, it also protected this." Greg took a magnifying glass looking at the bruise on the vic's chest.

"That pattern looks familiar, Greg, but I just can't quite place it. What I can tell you is it was probably painful and still relatively fresh. Delivered not more than four to five hours prior to death." Greg set the magnifying glass down.

"Suggesting that he may have had an altercation the same day he died." Sid held up his finger.

"But who hit him and with what."

Alison walked into her office. Greg sitting in his chair, taking slow deep breaths.

"Hey, you alright." She asked, walking over to him. He opened one of his eyes. Seeing that it was her, he relaxed.

"It's just been a long week." Alison handed him over an ice pack.

"It thought you would say that." He took it, setting it on his knee.

"I love you." Alison smiled.

"Sid wanted me to tell you that he figured out what caused the markings on the VIC. it's was caused by something called a potato ricer." Greg opened both his eyes.

"Really." Alison sat on his desk.

"What's a potato ricer." Greg smiled, pulling up an image on his computer.

"It's used for making Leberspatzle or pressing moisture from all kinds of food ingredients." He turned his screen so she could see it.

"Hey, we have one of those."

"It's a necessary part of any true chef's kitchen." Greg tilted his head. "I wonder if he was making birds nest soup." Alison raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that. We were just talking about potatoes." Greg pulled up a report.

"Adam found bird spit on the vic's shirt. It would have been around where he was hit. There's this soup that you can make that uses bird spit and a potato ricer." Alison turned up her face.

"Please tell me that you have never made that at our house." Greg looked at her.

"No, it's too expensive."

"Oh well, that's a relief."

Alison walked into the house Ethan in one arm tossing the baby bag by the door.

"Let's go see what's for dinner." She said, smiling at Ethan. He nodded, pulling his blanket close to his face. Alison headed into the kitchen and was greeted by Greg and a large pot of soul. She froze, her eyes landing on the potato ricer on the counter. "I thought you said it was too expensive." Greg raised an eyebrow. Following her gaze, he started to laugh.

"Oh no, I'm making potato soup." Alison relaxed, setting Ethan down. He walked over to his box of cars and started to play. "How was his day," Greg asked.

"He and Lucy had a great time together." Alison took the cup of tea Greg handed her. "What about you? How was the rest of your day." She pointed at the crutch that was leaning against the counter.

"It went fine. Did Lindsay tell you about the case?" Alison shook her head.

"No, we were too busy sorting out our schedules to have much time. I know the potato ricer guy was cleared that happened before I had to go get Ethan." Greg started dishing out the bowls of the hot soup.

"Apparently, a local hotdog stand owner has been complaining about our VIC and how he doesn't have a permit or pay the meter." Alison took the bowls, setting them at the table.

"I heard about him but wasn't he also cleared." Greg grabbed the fresh bread.

"He was, but his son wasn't." Alison stopped.

"His son?" Greg limped over to the table.

"Yeah, he knew that nothing would come of his father's complaints, so he took it into his own hands."

"And nearly ki…" Alison shot a glance over at Ethan, who was walking over to them. "Hurt a lot of people." She bent over, placing Ethan in his highchair.

"Unfortunately, yes." They took their seats. "Enough talk about work. What's the plan for our day off this week." Alison smiled.

"Danny needs help putting up a basketball hoop, and Jamie is taking his car for its first drive." Greg's eyes lit up at the mention of the second option.

"I'll flip you for it." Alison waved her hands.

"No need to. I already told Jamie you would be there. If the car breaks down, you would be far more helpful than I would." Greg leaned over, kissing her.

"I love you."

"I love you too."