"Grissom?" Sara questioned as she walked into my office. "Catherine said you wanted to see me?"

I stood up from my desk. "You know the case I just assigned to you?" She nodded. "The attempted suicide? I was just about to go over to the scene." "Good. Sara, do me a favor: if you find any DNA evidence, make sure to give it to the tech who works days, alright?" "Why can't I give them to Greg?" she questioned. "He was friends with the vic. I don't want him to have to test his own friend's blood." "Oh, right." "Sara," I called out to her as she turned to leave. " He doesn't know about it yet, so don't say anything to him, ok?" She nodded as she walked out of the room.

"Hey Gil," my boss Jim Brass called after me on my way out of the crime lab. "Come back in here for a second," he gestured for me to follow him back inside. As we were walking back through the halls of the building, he explained what was going on. "I think I finally found one."



Immediately, I knew what he was talking about. "A DNA technician? Someone finally applied?" We had been looking for a new lab tech for about two months now and, so far we had no "sufficient applicants", as Jim kindly put it. We had many, many offers but not one could live up to Jim's standards. At least, not yet. By the look on his face, I could tell that Brass had a good feeling about this one.

"He's twenty-five and he just graduated from Stanford with a B.S. in Chemistry."

"He sounds great. Now, what does this have to do with me?" I didn't have any say whatsoever in hiring a lab tech, I was just a CSI, not a supervisor.

"He asked to talk to you, said he knew you."

Puzzled, I asked for his name. Brass glanced down at his clipboard. "Greg Sanders."

"Well, where is he?" I couldn't hide the grin that was forming on my face.

"Right here," Jim answered as he opened the door to the break room. Sure enough, Greg was standing on the other side of the door. He wasn't as thin or as pale as he had been the last time I saw him; he looked less like a ghost. His brown hair was cut short, just long enough to cover his scalp. The long, thin scar still visibly ran across his face, but for the first time since I had known him, his eyes were clear.

"That's twice now that I've expected to never see you again, Greg," I joked as I shook his hand.

He grinned. "What can I say? I'm like a bad STD: just when you think you've finally gotten rid of me, I come back again". Noticing the odd looks Jim and I were shooting him, he blushed and cleared his throat. "Sorry".

Hiring Greg was probably the best thing Brass could have done for this lab; he was our comic relief. Even though sometimes he was a little inappropriate, his heart was always in the right place. Even though Brass wouldn't always agree. There was one occasion I can remember especially well, the day Holly Gribbs was hired.

I was walking her around, letting her meet all of the people around here and Greg was our last stop. As we were walking down the hall towards his lab, because we were all referring to it as Greg's lab by now, we were met by the loud echoing of music. It was so loud that the floor vibrated along with it, moving your feet slightly as you attempted to walk. We were pushed to the side as Brass flew past us, his face quickly turning a purple shade that I had never seen before. He swung open the door to the lab. Holly and I were nearly knocked down with the intensity of the music.

I'll be sorry when I'm old?

You're so full of shit man just go!

DIE MOTHERFUCKER

DIE MOTHERFUCKER

DIE!

Holly started laughing uncontrollably. Unfortunately for Greg, Brass didn't find it as funny Holly did.



"Greg!" he roared, loud enough that he could be heard over the music. Greg cringed when he heard his voice.

"Holly, why don't we meet Greg some other time?" I asked. She just laughed harder as she followed me back towards the break room. Sadly, Holly was never able to be introduced to Greg again. But I know that was one of her only pleasant memories of the Las Vegas Crime Lab.

Greg had always been such a vibrant person, so full of life. Even though the first half of his life had been riddled with abuse, drugs, and tragedy, he still managed to become the most optimistic person that I knew. Which is why I put off telling him about Tony Nash's death until that moment. I knew the news would destroy him, but I never knew how far back into his past we would all travel with that case.

"Good, you're still here," Sara sighed with relief as she stuck her head back into my office. "I just got the results of a DNA test on that strand of hair we found at the scene."

"And?" I pressed on.

"It belongs to a Lydia Bell. Sound familiar?"

Puzzled, I asked her a rhetorical question, one I already knew the answer to. " Skin tags can't last fifteen years, can they Sara?"

She slowly shook her head, now she was just as puzzled as I was.

"Then we need to talk to Greg".

The child has grown

The dream is gone

And I have become

Comfortably numb

AN: The fourth an final part of the Stay Home Series, Surfacing, will be considerably longer than the other and it will take Greg, Grissom, and Sara back to Harrisburg, hunting for a killer. I won't even start it until The Agony of a Stalker is completely finished, so it might be awhile.

The song Greg was listening to in the flashback was Die Motherfucker Die by Dope. The song at the end was Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd again. and in case you couldn't tell, the italics are flashbacks.

I really appreciate all of you who are reading this fic and I hope you are enjoying it.