A/N: Yo all! Welcome to the teaser chapter of my new CSI fic. Yup, it's another Greg one. Angsty goodness. Now, because this is a teaser chapter, don't expect an update too soon. I'm mainly posting it because I'm stuck in a rut and need to change the scenery. Writers block is evil.

I will endeavour to get this fic up and running ASAP though. Hopefully have new chapters within a month. If my muse cooperates. So please review, I need ideas and randomness to inspire me. :-P

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own em, wish I did, but am just borrowing them for my own weird, but fun, games.

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Chapter 1

"Greg, hey Greg!" Warrick trotted after the chemist's retreating back. Greg didn't stop, didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard the CSI. Warrick caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder gently.

"Hey man," Warrick joked, "turned deaf all of a sudden? Griss wanted you to come out with me and..."

Warrick trailed off when he noticed Greg's face. He was pale and his eyes were red, as if he'd been crying.

"Greg? You all right?" Greg only nodded. Warrick tried to get Greg to look up, but he only succeeded in making him back away a little, avoiding Warrick's touch.

"Man, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing." Greg croaked. "I need to get back to the lab."

"The sub's there already, Grissom wanted you to come out with me and Sara. We've got a floater in Lake Mead."

Greg shook his head. "Not today." With that he turned and headed back the way he'd come, not looking behind. Warrick stood puzzled for a moment before heading after him.

"Greg, what's the matter?" When he got no response, he decided to check with Grissom. Maybe he knew what was wrong.

"It was weird. He looked like someone had run over his favourite dog or something."

Grissom studied Warrick silently, listening to his account. When he had finished, Grissom took off his glasses and laid them on the desk.

"If he doesn't want to talk, we can't make him."

"Aw, come on Griss. Something is bothering him, we can't just let him bottle it up. We have to help him. He's one of us."

"I know that."

"Well, you should talk to him."

Grissom sighed and stood up. "If he comes to me, then yes, I will talk to him. Not before. I'm sorry, but we both have work to do." Grissom stood by the door. Warrick reluctantly got up.

"Just promise me one thing."

Grissom waited.

"Promise me you'll talk to him if he's still upset tomorrow."

"I don't know if I can do that."

Warrick pursed his lips, looking like he was about to argue further, then left silently. Grissom watched him leave. He knew Warrick was unhappy with his response, but there truly wasn't much Grissom could do. Unless it affected a case, and Greg seemed to want to avoid that.

He sat behind his desk again, working through the paperwork as best he could. His mind was still skipping back to Greg, though he tried to concentrate. He kept telling himself there was nothing he could do. That his hands were tied.

Which was, sadly, too true.

Greg sat back. He had just finished the set of samples from the armed robbery downtown that Cath was working on, and there was nothing else to do right now. For once, he wasn't backlogged.

He cradled the cup of strong coffee in his hands gently, as if he was afraid of crushing the mug. He stared absently down at the black liquid, mind somewhere else.

The sub had gone out for a dinner break, somewhat surprised that he'd declined fieldwork. Everyone knew how much he wanted to be a CSI, and it wasn't long before his presence was noted. However, most were too perceptive to intrude.

Most.

"Slacking off again?"

Hodges annoying nasal voice cut through whatever scene Greg was visiting. He looked up. Hodges was leaning casually against the workbench across from Greg, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Well, that's probably why you decided not to go out tonight. Wanted some laze time."

Greg was silent. His impassive stare started to unnerve Hodges, who suddenly felt uncomfortable. Making a hurried excuse, he fled, and Greg returned to his new hobby of trying to outstare coffee.

Which is how Grissom found him.

Grissom finally gave up on attempting to clear up his pile of paperwork. He couldn't concentrate on that, he knew it, and trying to pretend wasn't helping.

He thought about Warrick's words earlier, deciding to at least try and find out what was wrong with Greg. Maybe he would tell him.

Grissom headed out of his office and down the corridor to the DNA lab. He paused outside as he saw Hodges enter. While Grissom couldn't hear what was being said, he could see the expressions and body language perfectly.

Grissom understood now why Warrick was worried. Greg's face, his body, they conveyed a mindset not usually associated with Greg Sanders. As far as Grissom could tell, Greg didn't say a thing to Hodges. And Hodges became less cocky and more unsure, and even unnerved, the longer he stayed.

When Hodges finally left, he looked both uncomfortable and confused. Like he wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.

Grissom studied Greg again. He seemed to be staring down at his hands, or something he was holding. Grissom made his decision and entered the lab. The sub was nowhere to be seen.

Grissom approached Greg slowly. He was staring into his mug of coffee. This wasn't the Greg he knew.

"Greg?" There was no response, so Grissom tried again. "Greg?"

This time Greg looked up, lazily. His face was unreadable, expression closed.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Did you want something?" Even his voice was different, flat and cold.

"Yes," Grissom replied, "I wanted your help with something."

"Samples?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what exactly?"

Grissom beckoned Greg after him as he left the lab. Greg put down his mug of coffee and followed Grissom.

Making a split-second decision, Grissom led Greg to the front desk where they both signed out. Grissom then headed out to his Tahoe, Greg following faithfully behind. When Grissom climbed in, Greg did the same.

Starting the car, backing out, driving down a street, then another, then another, it was all done in silence. Grissom waited for Greg to say something, but he didn't. Greg sat silently, eyes forward, impassive. Finally, Grissom broke the silence.

"What's wrong, Greg."

"Nothing."

Turn left, drive to the end of the street, turn right, stop at a set of lights.

"There is something wrong, and if you don't tell me what it is, I'll send you to a counsellor."

Drive down a street, turn right, then another right, queue in traffic.

"Do what you feel like."

Greg's answer, when it came, was said devoid of emotion. Grissom pulled the car up outside of an all-night diner.

"Get out."

As Greg climbed out, Grissom turned off the car. He climbed out and entered the diner. Greg followed again. When Grissom chose a booth, Greg slid in opposite him. Grissom picked up a menu and skimmed over the choices. Greg stared out the window.

When the waitress came, Grissom ordered coffee and breakfast for both of them. Greg continued to stare out the window. When their order came, Grissom told Greg to eat. He did, obediently and without interest.

When they had finished, Grissom ordered more coffee for them, watching Greg carefully. Greg ignored the scrutiny, staring out the window.

"Greg..." Grissom finally broke the silence. Greg turned his eyes to Grissom, but seemed to not be there at all. Like he was off in his own little world. Maybe he was. Grissom didn't know.

"Greg, talk to me." Grissom tried again, this time getting a response.

"I'm fine Grissom. Really."

"No you aren't, and don't think for a minute that we haven't noticed." Grissom started to feel angry at Greg for his obstinacy. Why couldn't he just tell him what was the matter?

Greg shrugged, which only annoyed Grissom more. He shoved his emotions away, they wouldn't help right now.

"Greg, please. Just tell me what's wrong."

"It's not your business." Grissom was starting to wonder when Greg had lost all his emotions.

"It is my business."

"Really. How so?" Greg's voice was still flat, empty.

"I'm your boss. I should know if it begins to affect your work."

"It hasn't though."

"Yes, it has. You refused field work tonight, and that is a glaring sign to everyone that something is wrong." Grissom sat back, studying the impassive man. He was unsure how to break through such a cold shell. Nothing seemed to be working.

Greg shrugged again. "It's my decision; you can't force me to become a CSI."

Grissom stopped dead. He never once thought Greg would reconsider his desire to become a CSI. For as long as he'd known the lab tech, he'd wanted to do more, to be an investigator. What could have possibly happened to make him change his mind?

Greg sat waiting, like a marble statue. Grissom finally decided to give up for tonight. This wasn't going anywhere, and pushing Greg too far could worsen the consequences. Whatever they may be.

Grissom pulled out his wallet, waving away Greg's money as he paid the tab. He left the diner, Greg still following, as he had all night. He climbed in, started the car, and drove them back to the lab. He didn't try and broach conversation, Greg seeming to not notice or care as he stared out the window.

Grissom pulled into the lot and parked. He sat for a moment, but Greg didn't say anything as he got out and slammed the door. He didn't look behind as he headed back inside the building. Heaving a sigh, Grissom followed slowly, wondering how to help the CSI-in-training.

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TBC