Issues by SLynn

Disclaimer: I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.

Chapter 2: Liar

Greg and Nick were the first ones there after Grissom. Grissom was chatting up Brass, getting details but had not gone in before them.

They stood back a respectable distance, waiting for the word go, but not far enough away to miss the last bit of conversation.

"I'm not questioning his ability," Brass was saying, his back to them, "I'm just saying that it's not something he's seen before. I'm going to have nightmares about this one."

"He'll be fine," Grissom replied and then as if he'd sensed their presence, turned round. "Ready?"

Brass turned too, a bit startled to see them so close. He only looked at Nick. Greg, as if he hadn't guessed, knew they'd been talking about him.

"Who's in first?" Grissom asked.

Greg held up a hand, before ducking under the crime scene tape. Nick was right after him, followed closely by Grissom. Greg had already begun to have doubts. If Brass, who had seen a lot of things, thought this one was tough, maybe he shouldn't be leading.

He stopped upon entering the house, trying to do as he was taught and take a mental picture. The room was lit with candles, but otherwise dark.

"Should we go straight for the victim or do this room first?" he'd asked reflexively.

"Your call," Nick replied refusing him the easy out. It was nerves and Greg had to beat them.

"Let's go see then," Greg said taking a deep breath and traveling the obvious route straight through to the back.

Again, Greg hesitated at the door. He wasn't sure if he was really ready for this, but reasoned that it was better just do it quickly. Like ripping off a band-aid.

He took in another deep breath and opened the door. Another second and Nick would have poked him in the back urging him on. He knew Brass had freaked Greg out a bit, but he usually wasn't this nervous.

The scene before them wasn't like any they'd seen before. There was a woman, most definitely dead and obviously posed on the mattress. She was laid out so that her head just rested off of the mattress at the foot of the bed. Her arms were spread out beside her, palms up, legs lined up straight back towards the headboard and she was completely naked. She looked like an inverted cross.

The bed itself was completely stripped except for the bottom sheet. The woman's face was hard to see, covered with blood. There was so much blood that it ran through her long dark hair and pooled onto the floor beneath her. Her throat had been slit, evenly without so much as a hesitation mark and she had something stuffed into her mouth. Carved into her torso was a single word. 'LIAR'.

Greg was in shock. He'd forgotten momentarily that technically he was supposed to be handing out jobs, but he couldn't do it. All he could do was stare.

"I'll start taking some photos," Nick said finally. It had taken him more then a minute to react as well.

"What do you see?" Grissom asked him quietly as Nick began to photograph the room.

"He opened her eyes."

Grissom nodded, surprised he'd caught that. The woman's eyes were the only part of her face not covered in blood. The killer would had have to of stuck around, waited for her to bleed out and then opened her eyes, otherwise they too would be covered in blood.

Greg still hadn't moved.

"You okay?" he asked, now feeling some concern. Greg had never froze completely on a scene before. This was bad, this was almost as bad as it could get, but after all this time he'd expected Greg to struggle more to compose himself.

After a few more seconds, he just barely caught Greg gently shake his head from side to side. 'No.' He wasn't okay.

Grissom gently tugged on his arm, but even then it took him a minute to move. He got him out of the house at about the same time Catherine and Warrick arrived. Catherine started to ask Grissom what had happened, but stopped short as he motioned her forward. Greg hadn't even seen them.

He got him out to the car, asked if he'd be fine and left after hearing, albeit a bit dazed that he would. Greg stayed there until they'd finished. Nick came out carrying both their cases; Greg had left his behind without realizing. They didn't say anything to each other on the ride back.

Once there, Greg went straight to Grissom's office and waited.

After an hour more, Grissom returned. He wasn't surprised to find Greg there, although he'd hoped he'd gone home. Greg still looked like he was in shock.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Grissom asked, unsure really why he was there. Greg usually talked about these things to Nick or Warrick, Sara even, not him.

"I know her."

This was news.

"How?"

"I know her," he said again as if he didn't really believe it himself.

"Greg, how do you know her?"

"She's my psychiatrist. Dr. Sanchez. I see her every week, twice. I know her Grissom."

"She's the lead for your group therapy?"

Greg was stuck. He looked up at Grissom just like a deer in headlights. He'd never told him. He'd never told anyone, not even Sara. He was still embarrassed by it, by needing that much help.

"No," he finally managed, "not group therapy. Not cancer support, real no kidding psychiatry."

"For how long now?"

"Eight months."

"Are you on medication?" Grissom asked and then realized he wasn't sure he wanted an answer.

"Elavil," he answered flatly. There was no point lying about it. Especially now.

Grissom had heard of it and thought it might be used for manic-depressives, but knew that it wasn't his place to ask.

"Does anyone else know about this?" he asked, getting back to the subject at hand.

Greg shook his head, looking at his hands which he had clasped together in his lap.

"I want you to take the rest of the night off. Get a ride home from Nick. You're both off of this case."

Greg stood to go.

"Wait a minute," Grissom called before he could leave. Greg walked back over, but didn't sit down.

"I'm going to have to put this in the report. Greg, you should have told me this sooner."

"I know."

Grissom nodded and Greg took that as his queue to leave. Instead of trying to find Nick right away, he'd instead made straight for the bathroom. He'd barely made it before throwing up most of his dinner. He couldn't get the image out of his head. Dr. Sanchez, sweet and caring, dead. Worse then dead, defiled.

Greg made his way to the sink and ran the cold water. Splashing his face several times, he held on to the sides and tried to force the image from his brain. Nothing worked.

After a fifteen minutes Nick found him there, still at the sink.

"You okay?" he asked.

Again, Greg just shook his head.

"I called Sara, said I'd be bringing you home soon."

"Thanks."

"No problem. You think you can make it?"

"Yeah, I'll…"

Greg didn't even make it through the sentence before he was back at the toilet throwing up the other half of his dinner. Nick said nothing, just waited. After another ten minutes, Greg had re-washed his face and indicated it was time to leave.

Again, the ride was quiet.

"Hey," Nick said as they pulled up to Greg's apartment. "If you need to talk about this, let me know. I mean, if you can't tell Sara."

"Thanks," Greg said, still looking pale. "I may take you up on that."

"Do," he said as Greg got out of the car. He watched until he got inside before taking off. Sara had met him at the door.

"Are you okay?" she asked pulling him inside. "Nick told me about the case. What happened?"

Greg had probably been dreading this most of all.

"There are some things I have to tell you first," he said sitting down on the couch.

"Like what?" she asked, growing concerned.

"Things you're not going to like. Things I've kept from you. I just, I know you're going to be mad at me and you'll be completely right but can we just have the fight tomorrow?"

"Greg, you're really scaring me now."

"Promise me," he practically pleaded, "just promise me that tonight you won't get upset. I'm not going to make it till tomorrow if you get upset now. If you leave now."

"I don't understand what this has to do with the case."

"You will, but please Sara…."

"I promise then. I won't get mad tonight."

Greg took in a deep breath, relieved. He needed her with him tonight, even if it was for the last time. He was afraid that after what he had to say it would be. He just hoped she'd keep her word.

"Sara," he began still a bit shakily, "I've been lying to you."