Aggressive

By HarmZuay

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Crime Scene Investigation or any of its characters. They belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS. This is purely for entertainment purposes. Bloody Reds. Not Red Sox. Boston rules…

Rating: PG-13 for language and violence.

Author's Note: I wasn't actually trying to use up all of my allotted time, but I had lots of essays, lots of practices, and to top it all of I got sick. But your reviews (and threats!) got me through it and Chapter Five is finally here! This chapter is currently un-betaed because I'm running so late, but if there are problems with it, I'll fix them when I update with Chapter Six. Oh, a brainless in a back flip with a 540 spin, usually done on the half-pipe. Unless you want to end up like the name.

Chapter Five – Brainless

"Holy shit!" No one was quite sure who said it, but everyone's attention immediately turned to the ramp. Nick and Sara looked on in horror as the platform buckled inward; Sergei's shocked eyes; Greg's mouth opened in a yell, the sound paralyzed in his throat.

Petey rushed immediately to the pile of twisted metal and splintered wood that was no longer a quarter-pipe. "Greg? Surge? Are you guys okay?" she called hesitantly.

"I'm okay. I think." Surge moaned in pain. "Yob tvoyu mat'!" (A/N: If an ordinary Russian hits his finger with a hammer, he doesn't say, "Ouch, that really hurts!" He yells, "Fuck your mother!" and feels far better for it.)

"Will somebody please help me?" Petey bellowed, yanking a two by four aside.

A large of group of skaters and boarders who had gathered in response to the collapse, and they surged forward as Sara quickly phoned for an ambulance. The ramp itself had been roughly three meters high, but with as many hands working together, it was only a matter of minutes until Surge and Greg were uncovered.

Nick carefully dragged him free and examined his friend carefully. Greg's face and arms were covered in cuts, but blood trickled from a wound on his head. Miraculously, his hair remained untouched, save for the odd bit of sawdust. He was unconscious, but thankfully still breathing, and Nick located a strong pulse.

"Tell them he's out cold, looks like a head injury," he called to Sara, who quickly relayed that information over her phone.

This taken care of, Nick turned to where Surge and Petey sat on a funbox conversing quietly. Surge had amassed similar scrapes like Greg, but Nick immediately noticed the grotesque angle at which his left arm was bent. Already it was swelling, and his hand looked ridiculously small in comparison to the enlarged limb.

Just then an ambulance squealed around the corner before lurching to a stop a few meters away. Four EMTs piled out, and Nick nervously noted that three of them headed directly for Greg. Feeling detached from the entire situation, he watched as Greg's limp form was lifted onto the gurney, stabilized, and loaded into the ambulance. Nick's mind was instantly flooded with sensations from the last time this had happened. The lab explosion; the stench of scorched hair and skin; the harsh smoke against his lungs, then the cool and blessedly clean outside air…

"Sir. Excuse me, sir, but you need to let go." Nick suddenly became aware of the EMT that was trying to pry his hand off of Surge's uninjured arm.

"Sorry. I… Sorry," Nick mumbled distractedly. Gradually the spectators began to disperse, and Sara moved toward Nick.

"Hey. Hey!" He looked up at her blankly. "They think he's going to be okay. Not positive, but good odds. Cath is going to meet him at the hospital."

Nick's face broke out into a relieved grin. "That's great! Maybe we can swing by after shift?"

"Sure, it's on the way back to the lab. Now get your rear in gear. We just got ourselves a new crime scene."

* * *

A lone figure surveyed his surroundings from the roof. Across the street and three lots down, two squad cars blocked the entrance, lights flashing.

"Damn. Too obvious. Next time..." Turning, they kicked viciously at the small rocks scattered across the surface of the roof. "Next time, more subtle. But more deadly." A lone pebble skittered toward the edge, then silently dropped into oblivion.

* * *

"Look, I'm fine. Not dead. Really. Umm, my social security number is 575-43-2317. Date of birth is May 7, 1975. The alphabet backwards, uh, Z, Y, X, W, V, U, R, uh, I mean T. Hey, that doesn't mean anything. Please? Whoa, wait! Shoo. Stay over there. Needles are bad. Seriously. You know, I think I'm allergic to needles, so if you'd kindly – OUCH!"

Catherine laughed quietly to herself as she covered the last several meters to the room where Greg's panicked voice had come from. She didn't know what they were doing to him, but Greg sounded, now that she thought about it, pretty normal.

The door to the room opened, and a harried-looking nurse stepped out with a dramatic sigh. "You here for Greg Sanders?"

"How is he?"

"Asleep for now. Thankfully. He has a mild concussion and a pretty nasty gash on his head. My assistant was trying to stitch him up, but he started to freak out when he saw the needle. We had to, uh, sedate him." She smiled sheepishly.

Greg? Afraid of needles, are we? Hmm… "Can I see him?"

"Go ahead. I'll have to come with you, of course. Procedure." She moved to open the door, and Catherine nodded.

"Of course." Upon entering the room, she barely managed to contain her gasp. "My God. Are you sure he's alright?"

The nurse nodded in sympathy. "Looks bad, I know, but the cuts and bruises should disappear as the weeks go by. His head was the only thing we were really worried about. Probably going to get a scan before we discharge him, though, just to be sure."

Ha, Greggo. You're finally getting your head examined. "When do you think he'll be out of here?"

"Doc should clear him tomorrow so long as he has someone who can keep an eye on him. Otherwise he'll stay for one more night of observation."

Observation? Maybe then you'll know how a real lab rat feels. Catherine wasn't sure where all these random thoughts were coming from. Maybe with Greg unconscious all his eccentricity had to find a new channel. "Sounds good. I have a feeling he'll want to be out as soon as possible, so I'll swing by this morning. If he wakes up, can you let him know I was here? Oh, and the rest of the team and his friends are worried about him." The nurse made a note on her chart. "Thanks. Sleep tight, Greggo." She planted a kiss on his forehead, and walked out the door.

* * *

"Definitely intentional. These bolts were cut," Nick remarked, examining the sheared evidence.

"Confirms what the owner said. Everything else seems to be in near-perfect condition. Wear and tear, yes, but nothing dangerous."

Nick absently rolled the threaded end of the bolt between his gloved fingertips, deep in thought. "Near-perfect, huh? What about that piece of metal Surge mentioned? Owner know about that?"

Sara shook her head. "Nope. Said this ramp was one of the best. You think Surge lied?"

"Possible. No way to tell now though, at least not through evidence. It makes some sense if you think about it. Greg's our main source of information on this case. Take him out, and things slow down substantially."

"True. Surge did say they were the only ones to skate this particular ramp. Plus, by being a victim himself, he throws the blame."

"Just what he wants if those two are trying to hide someone. Or something. We never got those DNA samples from either of them."

Nick cracked his neck. "Why don't you swing by Desert Palms for those and see if you can get them both to volunteer for a questioning."

"Works for me. And you?"

He shrugged. "Still looking for a print. If we can manage to get one off of any of these, then we're one step closer to nailing our guy."

"Good. Because it seems like they won't stop at much to widen the gap."

A/N: See longer to update, longer chapter. I think. I'm too lazy to run word count. Now, to everyone who wanted lots of Greg angst, hold your horses… Trust me, it'll be worth it. As for the suggestions, I'm trying to stray away from any already-scripted stories. It's just more fun for me to write, and, I hope, for you guys to read, when you don't know what's going to happen next. To KrazyKid197, who noted my political mockery… hey, can't say that I think much of our government. Perhaps why Greg was listening to Anti-Flag, eh? RainbowsnStars, thanks for the reviews. All of them, hehe. And yes, I've read Video Killed the Radio Star. Michmak did a superb job on that. To everyone else, thanks for the reviews! Like I said, when I felt like lying in bed feeling sorry for myself because I was sick – I wrote this bad boy!

Hmm, now something witty to get you to reviews… Alright, you are forced to choose between reviewing and being slowly tortured by Chechen rebels (note that they are not terrorists). Unless you're some sort of masochist, review. And even if you are, review first, and then go get tortured…