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Greg
Greg sat quietly in the back seat of the Denali, staring at the buzzing Strip as the multitude of colours swirled together in the darkness, whizzing by rapidly. He was relieved when they hit the more conservative suburbs, and he was no longer forced to catch the fleeting glimpses of people in the prime of life, having a great time and seizing their youth. Had Nick seized his youth? Did he do everything he wanted to do?
They hadn't discussed it much, but Greg knew Nick wanted to settle down soon, raise a family. He always wanted a big family, Greg remembered that. He was the youngest of seven siblings, and had always loved having so many people looking out for him.
Now he'd never get to do that.
Greg sighed, risking a glance to the front of the vehicle. Gil Grissom kept his attention focused firmly on the road ahead, features stoic and impassive. Beside him, Sara was equally silent, gazing out the window like Greg had been.
On a normal day, Greg would have been bouncing off the walls in a show of hyperactivity, eagerly anticipating the upcoming scene and firing a hundred and one questions at the two more experienced CSIs.
Even if he had retained his usual energy, he didn't think he wanted to break the silence amid the two, who had developed some sort of impenetrable barrier between them.
Fifteen minuted after leaving the lab, Grissom pulled to the curb in front of an isolated Bed and Breakfast, which clearly relied purely on tourist patron ship for its survival.
The three of them quietly retrieved their kits, striding up the walkway to the entrance, a tacky archway painted around a plain white door.
In the front lobby crime scene tape had been plastered around the front desk, and plump, stockinged legs were visible behind it, lying horizontal.
David Phillips was crouched over the body, and was obviously relieved the desk hid him somewhat, because he bobbed his head awkwardly at them, eyes quickly darting away.
Greg remembered hearing he'd been the one called to collect Nick's body, and felt genuine sympathy for the guy.
The officer on duty had a radio clipped to his belt that was constantly going off, and beside him stood Jim Brass, quietly waiting for them.
"Hey", he acknowledged, eyes skimming over them all carefully. They stayed particularly long on Sara, who refused to meet his concerned gaze, perusing the crime scene firmly.
Brass sighed. "Janitor called it in". He gestured vaguely to a Hispanic man beside the officer, who looked like the concept of a shower was foreign to him. Considering his line of work, Greg found that kind of ironic.
"The victim's the desk clerk and owner, uh, Carol Hudson", he said, consulting his notebook. "Apparently they only have once customer staying here right now, but he's conveniently absent. Got an APB out on him now. It's a family business. Used to be booming, back in the '80's, but since the parents died, things have gone downhill."
Grissom nodded, ducking under the yellow tape to meet David.
Greg hesitated, standing by Sara indecisively. Grissom had barely remembered his presence, and no doubt forgot he was supposed to give the rookie instructions.
Brass obviously noticed this task had been left up to Sara without her consent, and regarded her carefully, obviously troubled. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked softly.
Sara nodded impassively,. Ducking her head. She gestured to Greg. "Stand where I stand, okay Greggo?"
It had been repeated to him a thousand times, but he chose not to point that out, and followed her silently.
"... time of death was about 3:00, maybe 4:00", David reported.
Grissom moved, allowing Greg his first glimpse of the body.
She was in her mid-thirties, early forties maybe, with thin strands of grey already forming in her hair. His gaze was unconsciously drawn to her face. She was deathly pale, almost a faint blue, and had a nasty hole blown to the right side of her face, cleanly removing her ear and part of her cheek. Dark black blood pooled the floor under her head and he could glimpse bone fragments and brain matter spilling out around it...
Greg felt the nausea building up inside him and staggered backward, before he could control it. He scrambled blindly under the crime scene tape, nearly tripping as he hastily flew down the front steps and making it to the surrounding nature strip before he emptied the contents of his stomach.
He braced himself against the fence with one hand; dry heaving when nothing else came up.
All he could think of was Nick. Nick's cold body sinking against the ground... his bullet wound, so bad no recognition of his face was left... the blood...
He felt a hand gently touch his back and flinched, realising Sara had followed him outside. He waved her off, sagging against the fence with a deep, consuming shudder.
"Greg!"
His head whipped up, and he realised Grissom was not far behind. The supervisor looked pissed, and glared at Greg as he stalked to them furiously.
"What was that?! I can't have you coming in and compromising our crime scene, Greg! If you can't handle it, then maybe you should just stay back at the lab!"
"Grissom", Sara admonished quietly, looking shocked.
Greg felt the fury he could no longer contain building up inside him, and he straightened to his full height, happy to finally have an outlet to pour it into. He didn't try to dispel it, instead calling it forth, allowing the words to spew from his mouth in rage. "I COULDN'T HELP IT!" he exploded vehemently. "I went in there and all I saw was Nick! How can you stand there and act like it didn't happen?! Don't you feel ANYTHING?! Do you EVEN CARE that he's dead? You walk around like a ROBOT and think were strange when we FEEL SOMETHING! Come on, Sara; TELL ME I'M WRONG! Like you haven't been thinking it too, like we all haven't been thinking it! I saw how he was treating you back there. Well I'm SORRY I can't handle it, Grissom, but MY FRIEND IS DEAD!"
He kicked a trashcan beside him, sending it toppling to the ground. Sara jumped in fright, and Grissom stared at him in disbelief.
Greg scoffed. "You know what, SCREW THIS! Process your own damn scene!"
He knew it wasn't the wisest career move to explore at his boss, but he wouldn't handle it anymore.
He stormed past Sara, uncertain exactly where he was going, but knowing her had to get away from THERE.
Sara glanced at Grissom unwaveringly at Greg's departure, and he stared back at her, unable to say anything.
She pursed her lips, and followed in Greg's footsteps, leaving him alone in the dark yard.
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A.N. Thanks for all the feedback guys, keep it coming. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, because hey, it's Greggo. I hope you liked it. As for the next few chapters, I'm working up to the funeral soon, and I'm trying to decide who should do the eulogy. Who do you think it should be?