Chapter Six: Red Rose, Red Rose

Greg: I thought we had an accord.

We did. We do.

Greg: But, you broke it.

No, you said try and I succeeded.

Greg: . . . Good point.

Exactly.

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Squad cars and emergency vehicles had already responded to the distress call and were clogging up Clark Avenue when a CSI Tahoe arrived on the scene. Grissom began his calm and detailed analysis from the moment he received Greg's call. The young CSI hopeful had sounded horrified and shocked. There was no light in his voice as he mechanically described the scene as he saw it to his supervisor.

When he told the other CSI's of the situation, they seemed to shut down, as though stunned that one of their numbers had been targeted by some killer. They immediately split into their groups to see if their crime scene assessment could assist the Missing Persons task force in finding her. Grissom took Sarah with him, leaving Catherine in charge of the group left back in the lab to pull up phone records, background information, anything they could find that would give them a clue as to who the perp could be. Greg would get some desperately needed field training by helping Sarah and himself process the ballistic tech's living space.

The police had blocked off the apartment entrance up to a half block away, officers standing by to ensure that no civilian got any closer while the investigators were working. It could be that the criminal was there in the crowd, getting a twisted sense of pleasure by seeing all the fuss he stirred up.

"Gris! You'll want to look at this."

He turned towards Sarah, strolling over to where she squatted by the door, removing his left hand from his pocket to detach his sunglasses, examining the lock closely. The were no signs of trauma at first look but upon closer scrutiny there were faint scratches and stress marks upon the metal, indicating someone with experience picking locks. He frowned, pulling on a latex glove and carefully teasing a fiber strand from one of the starches.

"Get someone to photograph this. Then let's go upstairs and meet up with Greg."

Sarah nodded in the affirmative, "I'm on it."

While she set up an officer with a camera, Brass strode up and greeted him with his usual frank manner.

"Gil, we got a few calls last night about a prowler. I sent a man down here to feel things out and he didn't see anything suspicious so he left. Around two tonight I get a radio from your guy, Sanders, about a missing person. My guys haven't even entered the apartment yet. I know how you hate a compromised scene."

"Thanks for the consideration Brass. Shall we?"

"Be my guest."

They headed into the building together, passing a small, unkempt woman being interviewed by an officer. As they reached the second landing, Sarah joined them, falling into step easily as they continued the sixth floor. There was an officer stationed at the door, and propped against the door beside him, looking like he had been informed he was going to die in less than a week, was Greg Sanders. He sighed when they were within feet of the doorjamb.

"It's a mess in there. We've been waiting for you."

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Let's do this."

The team already had their gloves on, and stepped into the ravaged apartment. They had to stop and assess the obvious signs of a struggle that occurred here. Though sparsely furnished, at least half of the existing furniture was up-ended or thrown at an awkward angle. Drapery was pulled down, dishes broken, clothing strewn everywhere. From the edge of a shag rug, Grissom pulled a button that must have been pulled off during the attack. It didn't appear to belong to a female garment, it was far to large for one of Kitty's shirts, it very well may have come from her abductor.

Grissom sent Sara to check out the attached "dining nook" - aka a small table with two chairs placed beside a window near the stove and refrigerator- and Greg to start of the bedroom. They had barely worked any further when they heard an audible gasp come from the back of the apartment. The bedroom.

Rushing to see what it was he had uncovered, fearing the worst, Gris and Sara stopped in the doorway. There, kneeling besides the bed, was Greg. And laying amid the tangle of a white comforter and white sheets, was a single flash of brilliant red.

An origami rose.

"He has her."

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Greg: G'damn it, go to sleep! You have school tomorrow!

Screw school, man! I have a plot to write! And besides, I've got blackmail… Or should I say "pink" mail?

Greg: Don't you even…

Ah, ah. Remember out terms?

Greg: *grumble grumble*

*fluffs his hair* I'm just messing around with you. Oh! And speaking of which, Kuroi Neko-kun, I owe you a great big attack of gratitude. Or will these suffice? *hands over Greg's boxers ceremoniously*

Greg: Whoa! Now you're giving out my boxers to reviewers?

Yeah, I guess you could say that. Which also reminds me.

Greg: Oh God.

Anolle, have no fear, this is just a smutty, angst Greg fic to get my mind out of the gutter. *gasp* Is it possible? Thanks so much for your review. I'm trying to capture the essence of Greg, but Eric Szmanda does it so much better. *complimentary Greg plushie* SuperKevsLass, you rock my socks! I hope the past few chapters have done well by you. *Greg's phone number* csifan1, I hope to hear back from you son! I'm practically wetting myself in anticipation! *Greg boxers on a plushie* RainbowsnStars I really am flattered that you reviewed so quickly. I hope to hear from you, as the rest of y'all, again soon! Much love!

Greg: Yes, everyone, please, encourage her. Then her fingers are too busy writing to steal my boxers.

Aw… I hadn't thought about that…