Chapter Two

"Well, Catherine," Grissom said, "nice of you to finally join us."

As Grissom started walking back to the Hummer, Sara and Catherine hugged, and then Nick suddenly headed his was into their conversation, until Catherine finally said that she had to go because her Camry was in the back of the house.

After then watching Grissom go back to the station on the motorcycle, Nick and Sara decided it was time for a little make-out in the car, while Greg was trying to get through the locked car doors.

Soon after, Nick and Sara had forgotten about Greg and took off without him.

"Great," Greg—the alone Greg—said to himself after everybody had left him there, "the police are gone, Grissom, Catherine, Sara, and Nick are gone, and all is a disaster! Joy—to—the—world."

Greg sat down on the driveway, and figured it'd be best just to make the time useful instead of just lying around, waiting for somebody at the HQ to notice he was gone.

Greg made his was into the dark, burned—down house. It was about 6 now, and even though it was summer, things were getting dark.

Greg clicked on his flashlight and took a look around the living room first…or what used to be the living room. There was a chalk silhouette of a dog.

"Grissom, Grissom, Grissom," Greg smiled to himself, "what would we do without you?"

"Well, for one thing, you'd still be in deep—and I mean really deep—crap right now."

Greg jumped, and then turned around.

"Jesus, Grissom! Nearly killed me!"

"That's twice in one day," Grissom joked, but didn't smile, "a new record." Then he smiled.

Greg stood upright.

"Ready?" Grissom asked him.

"For…?" Greg replied.

Grissom slapped his forehead.

"I swear, Greg, your brain is on 'off—mode' today!"

Greg blushed.

"Maybe…." He answered with a sheepish smile.

"So, you want to look around some more, or head back?"

"Oh please. If I have a choice between Nick and a case,"

"Mmm—hmm,"

"I'd most definitely pick the case."

"Alright. What room would your prefer, Haunted, or nonhaunted?"

The whites of Greg's eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

"Then again, Nick isn't so bad, let's go!"

Then Greg ran out of the house faster than a roadrunner, with Grissom not too far behind.

As soon as Grissom and Greg were safely back at the HQ, Nick and Sara were working on the hand, and Catherine and Warrick were trying to analyze "Who done it".

"Grissom," Greg said, grabbing Grissom's arm before they went inside, "Nick and everybody else really don't need me. I—I mean…"

"You like Sara, don't you?" Grissom asked with a sly smile.

"No, it's just that I'm not appreciated!"

"Grissom, come inside! We found a fingerprint!" Nick yelled from inside.

"No, I found it," Sara yelled from behind Nick.

"Coming, you love birds!" Grissom yelled. "Greg, we've got our own problems."

Then, Greg was left out in the heavy rain.

"What did you find?" Grissom asked Sara and Nick…more of Sara.

"We found who the hand belonged to," Sara declared.

"And who might that be?"

"Nick, you wanna tell him?"

"Sure, Sara. Griss, ma man, it was Lori Fann. She was married to Nicholas Fann, and a dog named Possum. And--,"

"And what, Nick?"

"And," Sara continued, "she was pregnant with a baby boy, four months."

"And--?"

"And…they died in a fire?" Nick said.

Grissom gave Nick a look that said, "No duh, you stupid butt."

Then, Greg finally entered.