I don't own anything or anyone related to CSI.
Greg Saunders turns away from his girlfriend, angrily.
"Please, baby, don't go…just call them and tell them you're sick, something…don't leave me today…"
"Lila, I have to go to work, I can't stay here just because you had a creepy dream about me…"
"Greg, you know I'm right! I can see it in your eyes, you know something's wrong!" Lila replies, starting to cry. Her French accent is thick through her tears.
Greg's face softens as he pulls on his jacket. He turns to her and embraces her in his arms. "Baby, I'm sorry you had a bad dream. But I have to go to work. It's important to me. I'll be home in the morning, okay? I'll wake you."
"No. You call me when you get there. I don't want you to go. You have to promise to call me…" She replies. Lila is gorgeous with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. She has been living with Greg for several months now, but their relationship runs hot and cold. "I don't trust that place since…"
"The explosion was an accident, Lila, and I'm okay now…" Greg says.
"Your beautiful skin…" Lila replies, caressing his scarred flesh from the lab explosion a few weeks earlier. She pulls his face to hers, kissing him deeply.
"Lila…I have to go…" He gasps, pulling away.
"Be careful, Greg…" Lila urges as he goes to the door.
"I'll call you, Lila…" He replies, leaving their apartment.
Greg is late as he parks at the CSI parking lot. He rushes inside and runs right into Warrick.
"You're late. Grissom's looking for you," Warrick smiles, steadying the thin man by placing his hands on his shoulders.
"Damn…a case already?" Greg asks, flustered.
"Yeah. Go to the bathroom first, kid, there's…something on your face…" Warrick grins.
Greg frowns and takes a few steps down the hall to the bathroom. He scrubs his girlfriend's lipstick smears off his face and splashes cold water on his face to steady himself. He steps into the lab where a manila envelope bulging with ziploc wrapped packages is waiting for him on the desk.
Lila, a dancer in one of the few respectable clubs in Las Vegas, had woken him up after only a few hours of sleep because of a disturbing dream. She had kept him awake crying out because of the terror she felt. She said it was about Greg's bloody death.
He shakes off the thought and empties the envelope on the counter. Photos of the crime scene. Bloody. Two dead. Stabbed to death with a letter opener…
"Greg? Why the stricken face, you've seen worse scenes before," Grissom startles him out of his staring.
"Uh, who are the victims?" Greg asks, staring at the silver bloodstained letter opener enclosed in plastic.
"Unidentified. We're running the prints now…Greg?" Grissom asks, more concerned by the lab tech's demeanor.
"Who's on this case?" Greg asks.
"Warrick…"
"I need to go, I have to go…it's a…I'm sick…"
"Greg, do you know these people?" Grissom asks, seeing the man's panicked expression.
"I need the night off. I shouldn't be anywhere near this evidence. I shouldn't…" Greg steps back from the table, stricken. Warrick and Catherine walk in, confused by Grissom's concerned expression and Greg's dazed look.
"What's up guys?"
"I'll call Vincent to cover for me…" Greg mutters, spinning around and rushing from the room.
"Greg!" Grissom catches up to the younger man in the parking lot.
"I have to go, Grissom. Fire me, punish me, whatever, but I have to go," Greg says flatly, his eyes colder than his boss has ever seen them.
"What's your connection to those people, Greg?"
Greg hesitates but his face doesn't lose its stony expression. "You'll get your I.D. in a few minutes, Gris. I have to find out some things for myself. The police will be calling me in a few hours and I'll give them my statement then. Now, I have to go."
Grissom stares after Greg's car as Warrick and Catherine join him. "What's going on?"
"Greg knows those victims. He wouldn't tell me who they are but he knows them…"
"Hey, boss. We just got an I.D. on those vics," Nick announces, glancing at the trio standing in the parking lot.
"Names?"
"Harry and Joyce Saunders…" Nick announces.
"Saunders?" Warrick asks as Catherine gasps in surprise.
"Yeah, just tourists visiting from Seattle with their son and daughter-in-law…" Nick reads from the file.
"Who's the son?"
"Joseph Saunders married to Tina Saunders. Staying at the Lockridge Hotel," Nick replies.
"Any other children?"
"A son and a daughter…" Nick is quiet.
"Nick?" Catherine urges.
"Gregory Saunders and Elizabeth Saunders. Is this our Greg Saunders?"
"Yeah. Warrick, Cath and I will process the scene. I want you to track Greg down. Try the Lockridge where Joseph Saunders is staying," Grissom orders, steadying himself.
"Greg knows?" Nick asks.
"He found the evidence in the lab. He knew before we did, he didn't say they…he didn't say they were his parents."
Greg swings his car into the parking space and walks into the hotel. He didn't call Lila. He didn't call Grissom. He has to talk to his brother.
"I was wondering when you'd get here. Room 317, little brother," A voice calls from the balcony.
Greg silences the screaming emotions inside him. He left his abusive parents' care when he was sixteen, finishing school and starting college while supporting himself. He never tried to reestablish contact with them but they would track him down every few years and harass him for money and for their own sadistic enjoyment. Greg's older brother, Joseph was a mirror image of their father, cruel and self-serving. Joe always told Greg that once he got the chance that he would kill his parents with their prize possession: the silver letter-opener that they stole from Ernest Hemingway's estate while on their honeymoon. As soon as Greg saw the silver weapon in it's protected plastic bag, he knew that Joseph had brought his parents to him. Greg ignores his beeping pager as he steps off the elevator onto the third floor.
"News travels fast in this city. I just killed them a few hours ago," Joseph smiles as he holds the door open to his hotel room. Greg steps inside.
"What the hell…what's going on, Joey?" Greg gasps, paling as he sees his brother's wife's dead body lying on the bed with her head twisted gruesomely. He doesn't allow himself to react.
"I finally decided to live up to everyone's expectations. I decided to follow through on my threats. Mom and Dad had it coming, Greg, you know that…" Joe sighs, revealing a pistol and waving it as he talks.
"Joey, no…"
"You could never understand, little bro, you weren't like us. Somehow, you were born with a soul…"
"Why did you do that to Tina, Joey? You loved Tina," Greg says, turning around to avoid looking at the broken body on the bed in front of him.
"I know. I love you, too, that's why I came here. I wanted Mom and Dad to see that they failed. They couldn't corrupt you because you were stronger than that. I wanted you to see that I could really do it. I did it for you. I eradicated their evil for you…"
Greg realizes that the sparkle in his brother's eyes is insanity. His brother has finally lost his mind.
"I knew you wouldn't be happy…" Joseph sighs as someone knocks on the door.
"Joey, you just killed our parents and your wife. Of course I'm not happy. What is going through your head right now, Joe? You're killing people. Murdering people. No, they aren't innocent people, but they were still people," Greg says, trying to keep his voice calm.
"But I did it for you! So you could be free…" Joseph argues, slightly panicked as the knocking on the door becomes more anxious.
"I'm already free, Joe. I have been for years. Are you going to get that?" Greg asks, still calm, but shaking uncontrollably.
Joe points the gun at Greg. "You get it. Get rid of them. Now."
Greg sighs tiredly, going to the door. He swings it open slightly, concealing the sight of Tina's body.
"Greg? We need to talk to you and your brother," Warrick says, looking relieved as the door is answered.
"We can't really talk right now," Greg replies as Joe suddenly pushes the cold barrel of the pistol into the back of his neck behind the door.
"This is a police investigation, Greg…" Warrick replies, surprised at the younger man's response.
"I am very well aware of that, sir. I'm sure you will have our full cooperation at a later time. We are unable to talk to you right now. My brother is very upset about our parents' deaths and is in no condition to answer questions. Can we schedule a time?"
Warrick knows that something is terribly wrong as soon as Greg calls him 'sir'. He can't see into the room and Greg's face is expressionless.
"Um…"
"Officer?" Greg asks, urging Warrick to speak with his eyes.
"How about later this evening. Will your brother be available then? Around nine?" Warrick replies.
"I'll ask him. Do you want to leave your card so I can get directions to the station?" Greg asks, a flash of fear sneaking onto his face as Joe nudges him with the pistol.
Warrick passes him a card and Greg quickly closes the door with a nod.
"How does he know your name, Greg? How do you know the police?" Joe asks, leveling the gun at his brother.
"I work at the crime lab. A lot of people know my name. They bring me fingerprints, blood samples, evidence of all kinds and I run tests on it," Greg replies, indifferently.
"Really? Is that how you found out…that's great," Joe smiles widely. "You found out about the folks when you saw the weapon, right? You must have flipped out!" He laughs.
"Joey, this isn't fucking funny. It's not a joke. You're…they're going to catch you," Greg says.
Joe shrugs. "I'm not planning on sticking around. This was my last hurrah, little bro, this is it. I did everything I wanted to do with my life, shit, Tina was even having our baby…"
Greg gasps in horror.
"So I got married, almost had kids, saw my little bro grow up into a good man and killed my good-for-nothing parents. I've had a full life."
"Grissom? It's Warrick. I found Greg…"
"Is he with Joseph, the brother?" Grissom asks.
"Yeah, but something's funny in there…"
"Joseph's the killer. His prints are all over the crime scene and the weapon. He's not even trying to cover up his crime…" Grissom replies. "The uniforms are on the way over to bring him in…"
"I'm telling you, Gris. Something's off in there. Greg called me 'sir', he wouldn't even acknowledge that he knew me. He took my card so he could call me when his brother was up to talking, and you know that he knows my number already…"
"You think his brother's threatening him?" Gris asks.
"I don't know, but I think that those cops need to wait. This seems like it could be a volatile situation and Greg is in danger."
"We're on the way. I'll tell the uniforms to hold off. Brass is with them." Grissom hangs up.
"Greg. Greg?" Joe is calling his name.
"What."
"I'm not going to apologize. They deserved to die," Joe says.
"It's not your decision. You're not God, you don't have the final say in whether people live or die," Greg replies, quietly.
"Yes, I do. At least I do in your case."
"You're going to kill me? Eradicate the family line?" Greg asks, calmly as his pager goes off again.
Joe stares at Greg's beckoning pager. "Who's paging you?"
Greg glances at the pager. It's Grissom's number. "My girlfriend. She's worried about me."
"You have a girlfriend? You love her?" Joe asks, surprised.
"I don't think that's any of your business, Joey. It hasn't been your business in a long time," Greg replies, flatly.
Joe sighs. He raises the gun and fires a single shot, the bullet knocking Greg against the wall with a crash.
Greg puts a hand to his damaged shoulder, stunned by the blood before the intense pain drops him to his knees.
"You feel like talking now, Greg?"
"Fuck you, Joey. You don't even know me. You say you killed them for me, but you don't know me. You haven't known me for a long time. We aren't family, Joey. Not anymore," Greg responds, shaking off the paralyzing pain. He realizes that the sound of the gunshot will bring security running if not the police.
"We are family," Joey hisses, kneeling beside his fallen brother. "No matter how far you move, how much you deny us, you're still a Saunders through and through. You're cursed. You'll never escape the family curse."
"I am not like you. I am nothing like you," Greg replies, blinking as darkness reaches for him. There is fevered knocking on the door.
"It was good to see you, Greg. I'll see you again…" Joe says, glancing at the door as he presses the gun against Greg's temple.
"Joey. Don't." Greg says, simply, closing his eyes.
"Why not?"
"Just don't," Greg replies, quietly, shaking as blood from his shoulder starts to pool around him on the carpet.
"Damn, Greg…" Joey sighs as the door swings open to reveal several armed police officers.
"Freeze! Drop the gun and step away from him!" Brass yells, standing in front.
"You're damn lucky, kid…" Joey says, turning the gun around and firing quickly at himself. The shot deafens the sound of his blood and brains splattering on the wall.
Greg is frozen as the police flood into the room. Warrick and Brass rush to his side.
"Greg? Shit, you've been shot…" Warrick realizes.
"Are you okay? Greg?" Brass shakes the young man, gently when he doesn't respond.
"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Can I use your phone?" He asks, his eyes glazed. Warrick yells for an ambulance as he hands Greg his cellular phone.
"'Allo?" Lila answers the phone.
"Hey, baby…" Greg says, weakening suddenly as he hears his girlfriend's voice.
"Greg? What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine. Do you have to work later?" He asks, drowsily.
"No, I took the night off…"
"Good. You want to meet me at the hospital? We can ride home together," Greg says, making himself stay awake and not meeting Warrick or Brass' concerned gazes.
"The hospital? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, baby, I promise. I just had a little accident. I'm okay," Greg lies. Lila promises that she's on the way and Greg passes the phone back to Warrick.
"Greg. I want you to look at me," Brass urges, forcing the man's head up to meet his eyes. "The ambulance is on the way. Did he hurt you anywhere else besides your shoulder?"
"No, just the one bullet. He didn't kill me," Greg says in disbelief. He drops his head again. "He was supposed to kill me…but he didn't…damn…"
"Greg?" Warrick calls as Grissom and Catherine flank the paramedics.
"I'm fine, Warrick. I swear. I'm just bleeding a little," Greg replies.
"What happened?" Catherine asks as Brass and Warrick haul Greg to his feet as the paramedics take over.
"We heard a shot and used the hotel master key to get in. Joseph shot himself as soon as we arrived, we…we couldn't stop him," Brass explains.
"Warrick, ride with Greg to the hospital…" Grissom starts.
"I'm fine, Grissom. I don't need a watcher," Greg replies, as the paramedics look at his shoulder wound and make him get on the stretcher.
"I know, Greg. Humor me," Grissom replies, flatly.
In the ambulance, Warrick watches Greg, concerned. Greg is emotionless as the medics tend to his wound.
"Can I call anyone for you, Greg?" Warrick asks.
"I already called my girlfriend. I don't have any family here," Greg replies, quietly, his eyes distant.
"Greg…"
"I don't need your pity, Warrick. I…my family history has always been stained with blood. We have a long history of psychopaths and sociopaths in my family. I guess…this was inevitable. I just…I can't believe Joey didn't kill me…"
"You want to talk about it?" Warrick offers.
"Not right now. I just want to go home," Greg replies, tiredly, his eyelids drooping.
"Yeah, I guess you earned the night off, Greggo…" Warrick notes.
"My girlfriend is going to be so pissed…" Greg sighs, sadly as unconsciousness takes him.