I never really wanted you to see

The screwed side of me that I keep

Locked inside of me so deep it always seems to get to me

I never really wanted you to go

So many things you should have known

I guess for me there's just no hope

I never meant to be so cold

- Cold, Crossfade

It had been a very, very long day; one of those days where, after shift, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into my bed and sleep for hours. Three suicides and a double murder will do that to you. After the seemingly endless shift, I had finally made it to my car when I heard the first low rumbling in the distance. I was digging in my pockets, quickly searching for my keys when I heard her calling.

"Grissom. Grissom!" Sara yelled as she ran to catch me. Once by my side, she held out her hand in a manner that clearly meant stop, bent down, and rested her other hand on her knee. Her hair was tousled from the long run and a worried, pained expression coated her face. About thirty seconds later, she straightened up and began, gasping for breath, "I think I could have compromised the Nash case."

I glanced at her, surprised, as she continued. "Greg questioned Tony Nash with me."

I knew by the way my cheeks were glowing that she could tell I was angry and before I could even begin a lecture, she jumped to her own defense.

"Well, if you hadn't kept important information about the case from me, then maybe it wouldn't have happened the way it did." She placed her hands on her hips as she tried to send me a condescending glare mirroring my own.

"What important information? I thought I made it evident that he knew the victim". The fact that I was handling this calmly seemed to anger her more. Her next statement was voiced about an octave louder.

"Well you didn't remember to mention to me how they knew each other! Or that they hated one another,"she smirked triumphantly, thinking that she had won. Thunder boomed after she finished, adding a dramatic finale to her statement.

"That's because I didn't know. Sara, I've known Greg a long time– longer than I've known you, even. When I went to talk to Tony Nash earlier today--"

"You went--"she interrupted.

"Yes, I talked to him before you went to interview him. I had a feeling Greg would be with you and I didn't want to hurt the case. Anyway, when I went to talk to him, he accused Greg of some pretty serious stuff, some of which I'm sure he shared with you." A quick nod and then I continued. "Sara, you've worked with Greg every day for the past four years, right? And in that time you think you know a person, know everything he's capable of doing and where his limits are. But the truth is, you don't know him. You're not friends. Now, truthfully, over the last year, how many times have you seen him outside of work? Had dinner with him? After the explosion at the lab, how many times did you visit him in the hospital?" I looked over at her, expecting her to be even angrier, but instead she was hanging her head, her cheeks burned with shame.

"Never"

"He grew up in an environment that we couldn't even imagine. Greg's home life was so hellish that by the time he was sixteen, he was a runaway. After all that he had been through, he still managed to get a hold on himself and become the single best DNA tech that I have ever seen.

"You let a person that you had never met before shatter your image of Greg. Don't you think you at least owe him the benefit of the doubt? I know I do. So please, Sara, don't try and tell me what Greg may have done before, especially if you have no proof."

"I just thought you might want to know," she whispered as she slowly backed away towards the crime lab, her face expressing so much hurt that I felt that familiar pang of guilt arise from somewhere inside of me. Once she was securely inside the building, the skies opened up, letting loose their anger at the world, at me. I ducked into my car as the first drops fell and drove home in silence. I arrived home to a dark house, with nothing but the booming thunder to keep me company as I tried to sleep.

My fitful attempt at sleep was a best futile and I found myself relieved when the phone rang at eleven. It gave me an excuse to get up. I blinked, trying to clear my bleary eyes as I reached for my glasses and my phone. Glancing out of the window as I hit the talk button on my phone, I realized the storm was still raging.

"Grissom?" the frightened voice on the other end questioned before I even had time to pull the phone to my ear. "It's Greg."

"Right". I had been expecting his call.

He gave a sort of nervous chuckle before continuing. "I haven't called you in years. I wasn't sure if your number was still the same."

"Greg, why do you drive down here and we can talk about the elephant in the room."

"You mean Sara?"For a brief second, the old Greg was back, but in as much time as it took him to return, he was gone again.

"Greg..."

"I was only kidding. Alright, I'll be there in a few minutes.

"Hey, Grissom? She's already talked to you, hasn't she?"

"Yes, she did."

"I thought she might."

"Why don't you just hurry over here so we can discuss this in person."

"Alright. Bye"

I set the phone back in its cradle and fell back onto my bed. Within seconds, the telephone started ringing again.

"Grissom," I began, exasperated, as I picked up the phone.

"Gil, it's Jim. I've been trying to call you." Brass's voice echoed through the phone, severity pulsing through. Where Greg's voice was quiet, scratchy, barely a whisper, Brass's was harsh, years of violence had hardened it.

"I was on the phone with Greg. He's not handling the Nash case all that well."

"That's actually what I called to talk to you about. I just got a call from Desert Palm. Tony Nash is dead."

"What? How?"

"That's you job to find out. The hospital staff is completely baffled. His nurse brought him lunch and, thirty minutes later when she went back to get the tray, he was face down in his Jello. Lime, in case you're wondering." After a pause, he continued. "There were no signs that this wasn't purely coincidental but, since he had just been assaulted, I figured you might want to treat it like a murder case.

"The sheriff seems to think that Lydia Bell has something to do with all of this. He wants a couple of your guys to travel up to Harrisburg and track her down, since we can't find a last know address. And he wants you to take Greg. He thinks she'll talk to him."

"Right, thanks Jim" I managed to stammer out, not bothering to remind him that anything she told Greg would be inadmissible in court, if it came to that. As I placed the phone in its hanger, I remembered the confused, scared lab tech that was headed my way. Once again, I would have to be the bearer of bad news and tell him that his friend was dead.

AN- Some of you may have realized that there was absolutely no information about Greg and Lydia hooking up anywhere in this series. I did that on purpose so you guys will have to ask yourselves some questions. Do you trust Tony? Lydia? Hell, even Greg? He was a heroin addict at the time, I would think that makes him one hell of an unreliable narrator. Any one of these three could be lying. Oh, and I can assure you, there won't be any big happy family moments in this story, because deep down I am fully devoted to the angst. The next chapter will be in Greg's pov, so you can expect some more incite on his situation.

The song is so cold by Crossfade, one of my favorite local bands that is starting to get noticed by the rest of the world. I've seen them in concert four or five times and I think it is awesome that they are getting played on the radio now. It's really cool when something you have supported for so long gets the respect of the rest of the world. You guys should check out their cd.

The nest chapter may take awhile, but reviews always help it to come faster.