Author's Note: Wow. I am surprised by all the reviews. Grateful, but surprised. Who would have thought that so many people cared about my little tale of woe? Please keep the reviews coming. If you do, I promise to keep the chapters coming. None of the CSI characters belong to me. Now that is a cause for woe.
* * *
The first rays of morning light were slipping through the blinds in Greg's living room, but Warrick had already been up for hours. His late night revelation had been gnawing at him. He had impatiently waited until an acceptable hour when he could arrange what would undoubtedly be an emotion and very telling meeting. He called Grissom to get an update on Sara. There was no noticeable change in her condition but there was some promising news. The doctors were pleased to see that she had made it through the night with no further complications. They felt strongly that she was over the worst and that she would make a full recovery. She was still in a coma but it looked as though she would awaken from it, barring any unforeseen circumstance. It was now a waiting game. The doctors had told Grissom that she could wake up ten minutes from now or ten weeks from now. There was no way of knowing how long her body would remain in this condition. Warrick was relieved to hear that Sara was going to pull through. He hated to admit it to himself, but there was more than one reason why he was pleased. There was the obvious reason, that being she would be okay and they would have her back. But there was also the small matter of the investigation. If Sara lived, as it now appeared she would, the charges against Greg would not be so severe. There would be no jail time for him. That would have provided Warrick some small measure of comfort if he was not now aware of what Greg was hiding. The new information changed the face of the entire incident and Warrick wasn't sure anymore how he was supposed to feel. He was disappointed, appalled and touched, all at the same time. His head was swimming with information and he desperately wanted to get out of Greg's house and off to his meeting. He scrawled a hurried note to Greg and taped it to the bathroom mirror so that Greg would be sure to see it. Satisfied that everything was under control at Greg's house for the time being, he grabbed his keys and headed off to blow the investigation wide open.
* * *
It was the incessant chirping of a bird that lured Greg back into the land of the living. He let out a groan and wished that the outside world came with a mute button. He tried to burrow deeper beneath his covers but his peaceful slumber had been disrupted. With a sigh he threw back the blanket. He made no move to sit up. The sunlight that was filtering into his room had made him acutely aware of the throbbing pain behind his eyes. His head felt like it was in a vice. There was a heaviness to it that made him question his ability to even pick his head up off the pillow. He grimaced as the taste in his mouth made its way to the front of his consciousness. Ugh. It felt like something had crawled into his mouth and died. His teeth had a nasty moss-like quality about them and his tongue felt like it was coated in turpentine. He rubbed his hands over his hair and felt it stick up in about twenty different directions. He was almost afraid to see what he must look like. He knew all too well how he must appear: he looked like someone suffering from the almighty hangover. He tried very hard to remember what had happened the previous evening. He remembered going to the bar and he remembered the first few round of drinks. After that everything started to look fuzzy, like watching a television station that's not quite in focus. He was vaguely aware of being dragged out of the bar and he was pretty sure he had thrown up in the kitchen. But what else was he forgetting? He had the feeling that there was something he should be able to recall. He thought hard. Well, he knew that Warrick had been there. He remembered Warrick being very upset. But what was it that Warrick had said to him?
Then it hit him.
Failure.
Warrick had told him that he was a failure. Now that he remembered, the words rolled around in his head and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to shut them out. He hated the sound of those words. He hated the fact that Warrick had said them. He hated them even more because they were true. He had failed. He had really messed it up. He wished that he could go back to two nights ago. If he could, he would change the way the story turned out. He would have made a better decision. He had thought that everything would be okay but it was abundantly clear that he had been wrong. There was no going back now.
He finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He knew he ought to try and clean himself up a bit and then go and apologize to Warrick. Not that it would make a lot of difference but it had to be done. Greg stumbled to the bathroom and was about to turn on the water when he saw the note taped to the mirror. Frowning, he pulled it off and opened it.
Greg,
Hope you are feeling better. I had to take off. Early meeting.
I know everything. Stay in the house. Do NOT answer the phone. Wait for me.
It will be okay, I promise.
Warrick
Greg felt the room spin and he had to grab the counter for support. If Warrick had figured everything out, then….
Greg was in worse trouble than he was before.
* * *
CSI headquarters was alive with activity despite the early hour. Warrick made his way upstairs. He found he felt oddly detached from the lab. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had been here, working on cases. It had seemed so important then. But in the last two days his priorities had shifted drastically. His primary concerns were his friends, not fingerprints. Nothing mattered except Greg and Sara. It was almost surreal to be surrounded by coworkers and yet feel a million miles away from them. He watched as Ecklie shot orders at his team. He watched Vincent, the daytime lab tech, process evidence. He watched as people bustled about, exchanging information about their respective cases. He watched all of this with a feigned interest. The truth was, it all seemed so futile now. How could they be concerned with helping other people when they couldn't even help the people who were right in front of them? Warrick wondered how long he had been a drone of the system, how long it had been since he had thought about anything other than work. Up until two days ago, his mind focused only on the evidence and the case at hand. There was no room for anything of the personal nature. In the time since the accident he had grown to hate being alone with his thoughts. Because every time he was, he found that he had neglected the important things in his life. He had never given a passing thought to the rest of the team and their personal problems. The only time he had ever thought about their lives is when it affected a case. Like when Nick had been dealing with Kristy's death. Or when Eddie had died. But if their personal problems didn't intersect with a case, then it never made it into his consciousness. As he rounded the corner to the conference room, Warrick marveled at the fact that his whole mindset had been revolutionized in such a small span of time. But he didn't have time to ponder it further, because once again a case was the number one priority. However, when the case was Greg, Warrick knew that he had to invest all of his energies in it. Especially in spite of recent developments.
He entered the conference room and shut the door tightly behind him. He sat at the head of the table and faced his colleagues.
"Thanks for coming on such short notice" he said.
Brass and Catherine looked politely puzzled. Warrick continued.
"I have some important information that you two need to hear first. But I need to lay some ground rules."
Catherine spoke up. "Warrick, what is this all about? We don't have a lot of time to waste here."
"Catherine, I know that. But this information will change the case. And if we mishandle it, it can cause irreparable damage."
A thick silence hung over the table as Warrick allowed the information to sink in. He cleared his throat and set out his rules.
"There are only two things I need the two of you to promise me. First, nothing I tell you leaves this room. It doesn't go to Grissom, it doesn't go to the chief, it doesn't go anywhere. This is very important. There is a time and a place for everything, and I assure you that this is neither the time nor the place to go divulging this information. Second, do not look upon this information the way an investigator would. Look at this from the perspective of Greg's friend. I know it's difficult and I know you have a job to do, but sometimes you need to deal with things personally before you deal with them professionally."
It was Brass who spoke next. "Warrick, this sounds serious. I need to ask: is this going to hinder and obstruct our investigation?"
Warrick was undeterred. "It might. But you have to trust me. That's the only guarantee I can make. If you are willing to agree to my terms, tell me now. Otherwise I pull my offer off the table and find another way to deal this."
Brass and Catherine exchanged dark looks. Neither one of them particularly liked this but they needed whatever information Warrick had.
Catherine sighed. "Alright Warrick. Tell us what you've got."
Warrick leaned in close and began to speak. He told them everything, including the events of the previous night. He told them how he had pieced it all together. He told them what the implications were likely to be. When he finished, Catherine struggled to find words that would depict the severity of the situation.
"This is bad. Oh, this is so bad."
* * *
Greg had heeded Warrick's instructions. He had been too afraid not to. If Warrick knew everything (and Greg had no reason to believe he didn't) then this whole mess was about to get worse. He sat around his house unsure of what the next move would be. He just hoped he would be ready for it. He had nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang. He crept into the foyer and peered through the peephole. Oh God, he thought. Warrick was on the front step - with Catherine and Brass. With shaking hands he unlocked the door.
His face gave it all away. Catherine and Brass saw the understanding, the fear and the resolution in his eyes. They knew that he knew that they knew. It was not quite out in the open yet. It couldn't be until the words came from his mouth. He gestured weakly for them to come in. Warrick gave him what he hoped was a reassuring look. Greg didn't think he could feel less reassured at this moment. He meekly followed them into his living room.
"Sit down" Brass said firmly. Greg sat.
"Greg, Warrick told us what he figured out" said Catherine kindly. "But I want to hear it from you. I'd like you to tell me what really happened the other night." She looked at him expectantly. He wished he didn't have to do this. He wished there was some other way. But he was all out of alternatives.
"I guess it's real obvious by now" he said sadly.
"I wasn't driving the car. Sara was".