A good beginning makes a good end.
-English Proverb
Part six: Greg- Las Vegas, 1999
Greg Sanders was petrified. Of course, he wasn't going to let anybody know about that.
He unconsciously straightened his black Metallica shirt as he strode confidently through the automatic doors of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, headphones swinging lazily around his neck, blasting some incomprehensible punk rock so loudly more than several passing lab employees shot him dirty looks.
His messy dark blonde hair stuck up at odd angles that could only have been prearranged, and he shot the receptionist a smooth smile, instantly attempting to turn on all his boyish charm as he set his new LVPD ID fluidly on the desk.
"Hey there. I'm Greg Sanders. I'm looking for Jim Brass."
The young, redheaded woman whose nametag red 'Judy', blinked back at him slightly, and he couldn't tell if she was impressed by his blind brazenness or just incredulous.
She glanced over his shirt briefly, before pointing down the hall. "Mr. Brass's office is down the hall to the right. You can't miss it."
"Thanks", he said cheerfully, offering her another grin.
He lobbied down the hall, switching off his music as he walked, taking in the imposing facilities of the nations' second best criminalistics laboratory, suitably impressed.
Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.
"Excuse me?" a sleek female voice spoke abruptly from behind him. "Are you lost?"
Greg turned, eyes scanning over the beautiful blonde as she eyed him disdainfully. He was immediately transported back to high school, quivering in the face of a stunning, scornful cheerleader. He cleared his throat, confidence noticeably shaken. "Uh, no, I'm… I'm the new DNA tech".
She blinked, eyeing him with newfound bewilderment. "You're Greg Sanders?" she said doubtfully. "Stanford graduate, top of your class, San Francisco lab tech?"
Greg slanted an eyebrow, slightly annoyed by her immediate scepticism. He got that a lot. "Uh, yeah, one and the same".
Her lips twitched slightly, and she surprised him then, by extending a cordial hand. "I'm Catherine Willows. CSI". She wasn't as derisive as he had initially assumed, and his youthful heart instantly bloomed with infatuation.
He accepted her proffered palm, grasping it lightly. If all of their CSIs looked like she did, then he was definitely in the right place. "Nice to meet you".
"Likewise", she noted. "Brass is in the field, so I guess you'll have to report to Gil. I'll show you to his office".
She strode ahead of him, obviously expecting him to follow behind, and she cocked her head slightly back at him when she passed a pair of guys loitering in the hall, who immediately stared at him with interest.
Greg lifted an eyebrow quizzically, instantly feeling like the newest specimen under their microscopes, and quickened his pace after the brisk blonde, getting the feeling she found his appearance highly entertaining.
She rapped lightly on an open doorframe, gesturing fluidly back at him as she swaggered nonchalantly inside. "Our new recruit's here to report for duty."
Greg followed her hesitantly inside the dimly lit office, eyes briefly straying to the assortment of odd specimen jars jumbled on the steel shelves. His eyes caught onto a fetal pig, and he unconsciously took a step back, gaze darting sharply over to the owner of this bizarro office.
Gil Grissom sat evenly behind his desk, earnest blue eyes taking in Greg with an acuity that intimidated him more than the two men out in the hall. He looked reasonably young, in his mid-forties at most, and Catherine perched comfortably on the edge of his desk, watching his assessment in amusement.
Greg glanced between them, unable to stop his disappointment as he considered that perhaps the stunning blonde had a thing going on with this weirdo. He inwardly sighed.
"So", Grissom drawled at last. "You're Greg Sanders".
"Yep", Greg chirped, then realised how unprofessional that probably sounded. "Uh, I mean yes, sir".
Grissom nodded, and Greg thought he was struggling not to chuckle. Greg heaved a sigh. So apparently he was a living joke. What was new?
Well, who cared? He was here to do his job, and he was itching to check out his working space. That was all that mattered. He would prove to them he was a master at his craft, and they wouldn't care what the hell he wore when he did it, as long as it helped them catch the bad guys faster.
"Well, I suppose you'd like a tour of your new domain?" Grissom said after a moment, lifting an eyebrow shrewdly.
Greg glanced at him, surprised that he seemed content to completely skip pleasantries, and that he had sensed what Greg was really thinking.
Maybe this guy isn't so bad after all.
"Uh, yeah", he said hesitantly. "That would be good".
Grissom nodded, gesturing swiftly to someone out in the hall. "Nick, can you come in here?"
One of the men who had given him a previous appraisal out in the hall sauntered steadily into the room, eyes drifting over its occupants briefly. He was a broad shouldered guy, with one of those earnest, chiselled faces girls always swooned over. He was built like a football player, with a lean, well-sculpted body, and Greg scowled a little, wondering how it was that all of those people he had considered vacuous in high school were suddenly invading what he considered to be his natural environment.
"What's up, Griss?" he drawled casually, in a distinct Texan accent.
Grissom nodded towards Greg, hand flexing vaguely over his ballpoint pen. "This is Greg Sanders, our new DNA tech. Would you care to show him to his lab, please?"
Nick nodded gamely, and Greg realised he had probably been waiting in the hall just to grasp onto this opportunity. He hid a glower. Guy probably had some kind of bet going. Swell.
"Pleasure to do so", Nick said graciously, starting out into the hall without waiting to see if Greg was even following him. Greg glanced back at Grissom and Catherine fleetingly, and glimpsed something in Grissom's gaze that was vastly unfamiliar to him, and infused him with a sudden amount of buoyancy. Conviction.
Greg frowned, whirling quickly to tag after Nick, hurrying to catch up to him.
Nick turned to regard him, stopping just outside an open entryway, smiling slightly as he gestured inside. "Well. This is your new home. I'm guessing it's a lot better than good old 'Frisco, huh?"
Greg peered inside, and a grin slowly overtook his features, as he momentarily forgot his first-day jitters. Oh yeah. This was paradise.
The technology was top notch, and the sterile, vast working space was at least a third bigger than his one previous. He feet peddled him gradually inside, gazing around to take it all in, and Nick leant back against the doorway, chuckling lightly at his reaction.
"Yeah. That's what I figured."
Greg peeled his gaze reluctantly away to look at the Texan again, lifting an eyebrow deliberately. "So. What do you wanna know?"
Nick blinked back at him, uncomprehendingly. "Excuse me?"
"For your bet", Greg supplied airily. "You know, to up the stakes. Come on, what do you want to know about me? Where I went to college, or how long I worked at the other lab. Crap like that. What do you wanna know?"
Nick opened his mouth, and closed it again slowly, like a fish attempting to breathe. Finally, his features split in an uncontrollable grin, and he laughed in pleasant surprise. "You know what, I think I'm gonna like you, Sanders", he announced jovially, swivelling around abruptly to retreat into the hall again.
Greg watched him go, turning to take in his lab again as anticipation bolstered through him.
"Yeah", he said to himself quietly, his own irrepressible smile breaking out on his features. "I think I'm gonna like it here, too".
