Unbroken
By: Emmithar
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, end of story :D
Summary: How can things end when Greg risks his own life in order to save those of his friends? One shot
Unbroken
It was the only place he knew of that would be quiet; here he could be alone, it was here that he could think. Greg sat down on the edge of the bench, listening to the laughter and music coming from the others down the hall. It wouldn't take long for them to notice he was missing; hopefully it would be long enough for him to get his head straight.
Sure, he had taken the day off yesterday, after what had happened the day before he had little choice in the matter. After an entire day of resting, Greg felt more than ready to go back to work. That was until he got there, until the rest of the lab greeted him with cheers and congratulations. There had been toasts, pats on the back, and even a few reporters who wanted an inside look on what had happened. Greg had turned all of them down, and in the heat of the celebration, he had slipped out of the room.
He felt sick…what had happened was nothing that he could be proud of…Greg wrapped his arms around his torso as they began to shake. What would everyone say when they found him sulking here? Letting out a sigh he shook his head, what did it matter anyways? Everyone was treating it like some big joke.
"You're missing everything."
Greg turned away with a shrug as Sara wandered in the room. The smile that was once on her face was slowly disappearing as she sat down next to him. "We can't have a party without the guest of honor," she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"I'm hardly the center of attention," Greg remarked, turning to look at her.
Her hair hung loosely, framing her face and in the dim light she seemed more beautiful than Greg could remember. He turned away as he blushed, praying that it went unnoticed by the young brunette.
"The party is for you," she reminded him, reaching up cautiously tentatively to place a hand on his shoulder. She withdrew however, settling both her hands back in her lap. "You are a hero, after all."
He let out a groan, by this time tired of hearing everyone say that. "I'm not a hero Sara…" Turning towards her he dropped his voice, as if afraid of being heard by anyone else. "Everything I did was for me; I did it because I was scared. I was terrified," he took a deep breath, lowering his eyes. "I still am."
"Greg…" she shifted, swinging one leg over the bench so that she was straddling it. "Being a hero doesn't mean you weren't scared…your quick thinking saved both my life and Grissom's, and possibly yours as well. You didn't do it because you were trying to be brave; you did it because it was the right thing to do. You know me; I would have pulled my gun on him or something stupid like that and we would have all been dead. Grissom's proud of you…and so am I."
She said this last part as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, moving towards his back where she rubbed it briefly in wide circles. "I'm still a little scared too, but we get over it, we move on. You'll learn how to do that as well, as you learn more."
Greg didn't say anything in return, shaking his head as he sat there. He wasn't sure if he should feel better or worse about everything now. After all, everyone was safe, and their prime suspect had been caught earlier that morning. Things could have been much, much worse.
"When you're ready," Sara told him quietly with a nod. She left his sitting there, moving down the hall to where the others were. Greg silently wished she would tell them all to stay away. He wasn't up to facing anyone right now. Halfheartedly he wished Ecklie would step in, restore order as he launched into one of his famous 'the lab can't waste money' speeches. But for some reason, the man had not shown up to stop the party, but to congratulate him in person. That was when Greg had started feeling sick.
This 'celebration' was having an odd effect on everyone though. Even Hodges had crawled out of his cave to give him a quick pat on the back, before returning to his pretentious self.
Greg rubbed his forehead, wondering vaguely how this all started. It had been like any other night, aside from the fact he had been called in half an hour early, and that it was a high priority case…okay, so maybe it wasn't a regular night. He was already awake when he got the call, with an urging from his supervisor to hurry in to the location.
Greg opted on skipping a shower in order to fulfill that request, staying long enough to pull on fresh clothes and shove an apple in his mouth as he headed out the door. He prayed silently that he had the address right, after all he had jotted it down on a paper towel, the only thing that was available at that time.
Whether or not he did was beyond him, once passing a certain point all he had to do was follow the flashing lights. He hadn't been informed yet on what had happened, but could tell with one look at the casino's parking lot that it was something big.
Despite the large area that had been blocked off for police vehicles, Greg found himself parking near the road, quite a ways from the front doors. The crowd of people pressing in around the taped off area didn't help either. Pressing his way through he managed to catch up with a sheriff, the two of them passing under the yellow tape as it was held up, Greg flashing his ID as he did so.
Once it felt like he could breath again he began to work his way towards the open doors, making it only part of the way before Brass called out to him, catching up to the younger man in only a few strides.
"I've been trying to call you for the last thirty minutes," Brass said in way of a greeting as they wandered in the casino.
"Phone's dead," Greg reported meekly, knowing there was no excuse for that fact. "It's charging back at my place."
"You need to keep that on you, it's your lifeline," the detective warned, "how about your pager?"
"Don't have one," he stated tiredly, surveying the scene before them. There were cops milling about everywhere in the front lobby, several crime scene analysts walking along with them, scoping the area out. Brass, however, didn't stop walking, and Greg had to jog a few steps in order to catch up.
"I thought you had one."
"It's on back order, remember, my last one was stolen."
"Along with the charger for your car," Brass nodded, "I remember."
"And all my CD's" Greg added, turning down the hallway after him.
"Your CD's you can live without, your pager is a different story," Brass argued, coming to a stop in front of an open doorway.
"On the contrary," Greg murmured, coming up to his side. The male DB inside was sprawled on his side, a blood pool around his chest, and various spatter around the room. Sara was taking generals of the body, while Grissom worked further out, swabbing several of the stains.
"Mark Tenneson, age 35. Undercover officer. He was following a possible drug sale; his last call came in at 6:27, saying he was following a suspicious character. Gave a description," Brass moved on, motioning for Greg to follow as well.
"Dirty blonde hair, a bit on the long side, five and half feet in approximate height, brown eyes, wearing a black jacket, and tan colored pants, with black boots," Brass rattled off the notes on the small piece of paper, before handing them back to Greg, who reread it over just in case the detective had left anything out.
"David's on his way to evaluate the body, Grissom and Sara have the main room, you're taking the hallway and the three rooms back here. We need anything on this guy, so keep a sharp eye."
"What are you, my supervisor now?" Greg wondered, glancing around the area.
"You do your job, I'll do mine," Brass told him with a smile. He reached up, straightening his jacket. "In any case, I have to go interview some possible witnesses. You should get started; it's going to take you a while just to get everything done yourself."
"Wait," Greg called after him, stopping the man in his tracks. "No one's coming in to help me? Three suites, and the hallway, by myself?"
Brass shrugged, frowning. "What am I, your supervisor?"
Greg's eyes narrowed as he frowned back at the other man. The detective only shrugged, and continued on his way. Letting out a cross sigh, Greg moved into the first room, muttering under his breath. "You know, this can be considered hazing," he called, despite the fact no one could even hear him. Shaking his head he set his case down on the floor, and began to process the scene.
Holding the tweezers up the light he examined the material closely, squinting his eyes. "Blue fibers…jeans, maybe?" Greg drew in a breath as he turned them over. "Suspect was wearing tan pants however…maybe his shirt, if he took his jacket off."
"Or maybe another suspect," Grissom pointed out, his camera flashing as he took several more photos.
Greg growled under his breath as he slid the fabric in a pouch, glancing up at his boss. "How is it that you and Sara work one little room, and I'm stuck with three suites?"
"Sara and I will be over to help once we finish everything," Grissom told him, "Besides, I already ran the hallway."
He had come over to check on the CSI's process, doing little more than take photos, ones that he had already taken himself, might he add. "How generous," Greg muttered, "Did I mention that these were suites?"
"The difference between the rooms is that your three suites have very little to look at in them. Whereas the room Sara and I are currently working has a lot to look at. Theses rooms back here are just possible areas for the criminal to stash something."
"How can you be currently working on the room if you're in here?" Greg wondered, pulling out his flashlight as he began sweeping the floor.
"If you want to give settle hints, try being a little more settle," Grissom warned him, easing himself up to a standing position.
"All I'm saying is that I have my own method, and you're screwing me up."
Grissom raised an eyebrow as the younger man continued his search. His back was facing towards him so that the CSI could not see his expression. "I need to remind myself to stop pairing you up with Sara. She's starting to rub off on you."
Greg let out a snort, laughing softly. By the time he had thought off a clever comeback, Grissom had already left the room. The smile still played off his face as he crouched down, balancing on his heels. There, under the bed was a pile of clothes, wadded up into a ball.
Snapping several photos he reached out carefully, pulling the wadded mess out. He let out a bitter sigh, taking everything in. A black coat, dirty tan colored pants, and a pair of black boots, as well as a blonde wig. Exactly what their suspect was wearing. He didn't glance up as the footsteps came up behind, instead holding the clothes up for show as he grinned.
"Well, either our buddy changed or he's running around naked," Greg commented.
"I'd settle for the first one."
Greg's grin faded quickly; that was definitely not Grissom's voice, and the cold barrel pressed to the back of his neck most certainly was not a handheld massager. The man behind him laughed, sending a chill down Greg's spine. All the sudden he felt very cold, and alone. The thought sickened him. Grissom was just in the room a second ago, what had happened to him?
"Are you alone?"
Greg swallowed, letting the clothes slide to the floor as he nodded. "Yeah…it's just me." So he hadn't seen anyone else, for a moment Greg could feel himself breathe, but that lasted only a moment.
"No you're not," he laughed again; "You think I'm that stupid. Who did you think I was?"
Greg didn't answer, beginning to feel sicker with each passing moment. He felt the barrel of the gun move from his neck to the back of his head. "I would be very much obliged if those stayed where I put them."
Greg nodded, sliding the clothes back under the bed. They would be found easily enough by someone else. He swallowed at the thought…what was he going to do now?
He felt a hand wrap around his arm, pulling him to his feet. Greg found himself staring into the other man's eyes, taking a quick note of any particular features. Shaved head, a tattoo of an eagle on his right arm. He was dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans, down to a pair of sandals now.
"What?" he grinned at Greg's questioning stare. "You think after that bad ass cop ratted me out I'd stay in the same wear? That lowlife's been following me for nearly a month, you think I wouldn't notice?"
"You killed him," Greg stated quietly, his eyes on the gun that was slowly drifting down. Maybe if he got him to talking he would become distracted enough…
"Of course I killed him," he laughed cruelly. "He knew too much. Enough about me though." The gun was raised again, the guy motioning for him to start walking. "Let's go find these friends of yours."
"There's no one else," Greg breathed quickly, trying to ward him off. Turning he pulled forward, testing his limits. He wasn't given much, as the grip tightened on his arm in warning.
"Just keep walking," he instructed, pushing him forward.
Greg could feel his throat tighten as the passed the first room, but he didn't break stride there. With each step they were getting closer and closer to the main room. His mind raced, as much as he wanted help, he knew in the end he would only be endangering anyone he came across. There had to be a way to distract him, throw him off track. Greg considered breaking away, running for it. Sure, he didn't stand a chance, but the gunfire would at least alert them.
Even as all these thoughts passed through his mind, Greg couldn't bring himself up to the feat. He watched with heartrending eyes as the pair worked, both unaware at their presence. He was afraid to look into the eyes of the killer, afraid to see what he was thinking. Would he kill them right then and there, never even giving them a chance to see what would happen. Or would he toy with them first...?
Greg tried to say something, but his voice was gone, his throat squeezed tightly, making it near impossible to even breath, let alone talk. Still they waited, standing their quietly. The gun pressed against his jaw, but a small nudge brought his attention back to the man behind him. He nodded to Greg, indicating the other two. He wanted Greg to do the talking.
Squeezing his eyes shut Greg trembled, what would he say? Another nudge, this time more impatient. Clearing his throat Greg opened his eyes. "Griss…"
"Not now Greg, we're busy," Grissom replied monotonously.
There was a third nudge, this time more insistent, almost to the point it hurt. "We uh…we have company."
He considered saying that there was a problem, but he wasn't sure how their killer would take to that. It was enough, however, because both Sara and Grissom looked up. Their expressions were filled with surprise, astonishment. It was then Sara got her bearings, reaching for her gun.
The gun that was pressed against his own jaw was cocked, an arm wrapping around his chest in order to keep him still. His heart began to race as the gun was pressed up forcefully, tilting his head back against his captive's shoulder in order to prevent bruising.
"I wouldn't do that missy," he smiled calmly at Sara, before turning his attention to Greg. "And you said you were alone."
"Let him go," Grissom caught his attention, something Greg was thankful. The pressure let up some, not enough to really move, but at least it wasn't hurting anymore. "You don't need him for anything."
A low hum came from his throat as he considered it. "I think I'll keep him," he laughed giving him a mock hug. "He's been so helpful this far. Then again, we have to learn how to let things go sooner or later. What do you think? A single turns into a quadruple, now that would make headlines."
The gun had left his jaw, now ready to fire and was aiming straight at Grissom. Sara had moved again, quickly assessing the situation, but it was Greg that spoke up first. "I can get you out of here."
The gun held steady, and Greg could scarcely move. All three of them would be dead within minutes unless he did something. Maybe he could distract him long enough for Sara to get her gun out.
"Think about it," Greg breathed. "You have a room full of cops right down the hallway. You fire that gun and they will all hear, you won't even have time to even think about getting away. Four dead cops…you will end up with the death penalty."
"Greg…" Sara warned quietly, falling silent as the killer glanced her way.
"You want to get out of here, I can help you, but you have to leave them out of this."
He grinned, laughing. "What, you're the one calling the shots now?"
"Do what you want, but consider the odds."
It was quiet; Sara sat on her haunches, her hand still resting on her gun. The only thing that kept her from pulling is that the gun had returned back to Greg. It was too risky to try anything now.
"Then do what?" he asked, "Leave these two here, to scream and shout as we're leaving, alert the entire place. Too risky. I'm better off with all you three dead. Who said anything about shooting?"
"We tie them up," Greg breathed quickly, hardly believing what he was saying. "Murder's messy; you have any extra clothes to change into? Someone walking around covered in blood, easy target."
"Fine," he huffed, obviously angered by the situation, one he couldn't control. "Make sure they're gagged too."
Greg glanced at him, incredulous. Did he actually expect him to tie them up? "I know all about fingerprints, and skin cells. How do you think I've gotten away with this for so long?"
There was a nod towards the strands holding the curtains open. "Use those, make sure they're tight."
It was degrading, the way he was being led around like a puppy on a leash. A firm hand twisted in the back of his shirt collar kept him from going to far, and with the gun pressed to head as a firm reminder it was hard to think of anything else. Greg had already bound and gagged his own boss, as gently as he could, and was busily working on tying Sara up. Funnily enough, the only real thing he could worry about was whether or not the two would ever forgive him for this.
Checking the knot one last time he turned Sara back around, making sure she had her balance before letting her go. She wouldn't look him in the eyes, and it hurt, as though she was accusing him for everything that had happened. It hurt more than he expected.
With her hands and feet bound he reached for the silken sash, the one the man had so generously thrown at his feet. Folding it over twice he glanced at her face one last time, thankful that he had. Sara was watching him now, with more regret than anything else. He saw a mixture of fear and uncertainty, but was unable to tell if it was directed at him, or a mask of her own emotions.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, holding the cloth in his hands.
"You do what you have to do," she responded, just as quietly. It went unmissed by the killer, as he shoved Greg forward roughly, a short warning to hurry up. Without missing another beat Greg wrapped the cloth around her head, tying simply, enough to muffle her words, but light enough so that it wouldn't bruise nor cut.
He wasn't given a chance to say any goodbyes, as he was hauled roughly to his feet again. Ushered out to the hall the two were left alone, most likely already working to get free. Greg had purposely tied the knots loosely, although it would still take a good handful of minutes to get loose, they still would in the end.
The lobby was still full of cops, and Greg could feel the man's apprehension for the first time, as his grip tightened on his shoulder. The gun was straight in his back now, an uncomfortable tickling sensation each time the barrel passed over his spine.
"I warn you now," his breath was warm against Greg's ear, "You can call out, draw attention to yourself, do whatever you want. You know I'm very well outnumbered, and I know that as well. But it will only take me half a second to kill you, and I will take everyone else that I can. Think about that…"
"So you take me off somewhere else, kill me there?" Greg whispered back, feeling disgusted for the first time.
"One life, or several," he tossed the option in the air, "choose wisely."
Greg felt his heart sink, despair once again welling up inside of him. There was no choice in the end. He couldn't risk the lives of others, they weren't even suspecting something, and so many of them were inexperienced, even more than he was.
He was nudge forward, and Greg stepped out from behind the wall, walking in plain sight of tens of dozen of cops. So desperately he wanted to call out to one of them, his eyes searching their faces, a pleading expression…if only they would look this way…
"Greg!"
He glanced up, so did the man behind him, and Greg felt his throat tighten again. David was making his way through the crowd towards him, calling his name a few more times. Part of him was relieved, but a larger part installed fear. What would happen to David if the young man pressed to hard about the current situation?
The grip on his shoulder tightened, the fingernails digging into his skin. Greg wetted his lips as David caught up to them. "Robbins sent me back, the bullets were through and through, somewhere still in the room."
"Why didn't you just call?" Greg asked quietly, keeping his voice low.
David pointed to the ceiling, shrugging his shoulders. "Can't get through…" he grew quiet, noticing the stranger for the first time. "Who…"
"This is uh…" Greg faltered, racking his mind. "This is Tenneson, Mark Tenneson. The uh…the director of the board, remember?"
"Mark Tenneson?" David questioned, a strange look crossing his face, "But I thought that Tenneson was…"
"Coming next week?" Greg cut him off before he could finish. "Yeah, but it was changed to this week, didn't you check the schedule?"
He nodded after a moment, his expression changing. "No…I guess I missed that memo."
"You need to keep on top of that," Greg chided him, feeling relieved. It was getting easier as it went along. "How do you expect to do anything? We can't keep after you all the time."
"I'm sorry…" his response was bland, his expression still somewhat confused, but one glance at Greg's face he quickly caught on. "I just forgot…Mr. Tenneson," he nodded to the man behind Greg. "I'm sorry, I'm new here and I didn't realize you were showing up so soon." The lie came out easily.
"Enough," the man spoke up, nodding towards him. "We all make mistakes."
"Grissom…he uh, he asked me to take Tenneson back to the lab, show him around."
David nodded, stepping the side. "I need to get back too, I'd love to join in the tour, but I'm so backlogged right now…" he trialed off, giving them one last quick nod before heading back to the door.
"Well played," he whispered to Greg, who in turn was letting out his own breath. Part of him was worried; it had all been too easy. "Let's keep on going."
Sara nearly had all the knots undone by the time David found him. For a moment he just stood there, not knowing what to do. Tampering with a crime scene would lose him his job. But a stern look from Grissom had changed that previous notion.
"What's going on," he breathed, pulling the last of the knots free. Sara finally pulled her hands free, ripping the sash out of her mouth distastefully.
"We have to find Greg."
"He just left," David stated, continuing to talk before she could even start. "I thought something funny was up when he introduced the man as our vic, so I alerted Brass. He has some units following them at a distance."
"Good work," Grissom nodded, impressed by both Greg's quick thinking, and David's actions. "Get some Dayshift on this now," he pointed to the room. "Let them know they won't get anything off the bonds, our killer had Greg tie us up. He's smart, so let's not play."
David only nodded once, moving out of the room. Sara and Grissom were not too far behind. Their lives may have been saved, but they knew if they didn't do something soon, another one would be lost.
The entire ride had been quiet, something Greg had never been good with. There was no music, no talking. Only the sound of the car, the traffic, and their quiet breaths. He couldn't even think really, not with a gun pointed in his face. There were doubts, questions racing through his mind. With two rounds already fired, how many were left in the gun? Was it even loaded? There were plenty of possible distractions; with Greg driving he had the element of surprise. But was it worth it? He glanced over quickly, down the barrel of the gun that was watching him. Was any of it worth it?
They had long ago left the busy town behind, snagging an older beat up car. Thievery...would that go on his record? He had learned how to bound and gag someone, and hotwire a car, all in one night. What was left?
The killer sighed deeply, pulling the gun away. "I can trust you'll be a good boy for a while?"
Greg wasn't sure if an answer was expected, but he nodded anyways. If he was letting down his guard it would be in his favor. The man only smiled, laying the gun his lap, clear out of Greg's reach.
Without a word he reached over, picking the bottled water up from the floor. He had so graciously stolen it from a stand as they walked by. Twisting off the cap he took a long drink, sighing in satisfaction. Greg wetted his own lips; his throat had been dry for a long time.
There was no indication of an offer, and there was no way in hell Greg would ask for a sip either. He would only stoop so low, and besides, if his plans involved death, he wouldn't be uncomfortable for very long.
Beside him the man had pulled a small container from his pocket, turning the white powder into the bottle. Seemingly satisfied he tossed the empty container on the floor, twisting the cap on. He shook it several good times, grinning as he turned to Greg. "Pull off up here," he nodded towards him.
Greg felt him his stomach flip, as he gazed up the road. It was now or never, and Greg's hands tightened on the wheel. The gun, however, had returned back to its original position, a wider grin crossing the man's face.
"We can make this quick and easy, or leave a pretty mess for all your friends to find. What do you think will be easier for them to bear?"
Greg felt sickened, but he could no longer pull the courage up to do anything but to comply with his demands. Slowing the car he pulled off on the side road. His heart began to race as the man motioned for him to get out. When he hesitated, the killer shoved him roughly, repeating his request.
Greg opened the door, the dry desert heat hitting him. There was no one else around; miles away from Vegas…no one would hear anything. The lab would be lucky to find his bones…
"Passenger side, now," the man pointed to the car.
Greg blinked slowly, watching him questioningly. "You're not going to kill me?"
"Not now," he gave him a small smile, frowning as he repeated his command. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."
Greg felt his knees go weak, and he could hardly walk straight. He felt like crying, a mixture of joy and disappointment. He didn't want to die, but the anticipation of how and when was pushing his beyond his normal limits. Partially, he was surprised he hadn't passed out yet.
"Drink," he handed the bottle to Greg, starting up the car at the same time.
Greg refused his offer, shaking his head. "That's okay, I'm not thirsty." He wasn't sure what the man had done to it, but he didn't want to find out.
"You're parched," he insisted, "Drink…"
"I'd rather not…"
"Sonny, don't make this hard for me. You can either drink it willingly, or I'll stop the car and force it down your throat. Trust me, that won't be a pretty sight."
Greg wasn't sure if the threat was liable or not, but wasn't willing to take a chance. Better with the water…whatever it was. If it was poison, hopefully it would be quick. He took a deep breath, in order to calm himself. He felt rotten, participating in his own killing…it felt like suicide.
He took a slow sip, than another at the man's prompting. "All of it."
Could he really be serious? He wanted him to drink an entire bottle of water at once? He took another swig of the tainted water, hoping it would satisfy his captor, but with one look he knew that it wouldn't. Several minutes later and feeling rather sick Greg dumped the empty bottle on the floor, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes. He considered vomiting, knowing full well that it would anger his captor, but what were the odds of him having any more…whatever it was.
The consequences would be devastating, probably resulting in a painful death, but Greg didn't have too much time to really worry over it. If his body had its own way he wouldn't have to force himself to vomit. Before he could even consider this option he realized that he suddenly felt very tired, and within seconds was fast asleep.
"You lost him?"
Sara couldn't believe what she was hearing. Their only lead, the one and only car that had managed to track the car for so long had lost them. "How is that possible?"
Brass held out his hand, quieting her. Since the news of Greg's kidnapping had swept the lab, the previous case had been halted. The dead could wait, but with a life hanging in the balance they needed all the help they could get.
"We had five cars tracking him," Brass stated slowly. "And all five of you lost him."
"We're used to high speed chases," the man said, holding his hands out to the side. "We've never had experience with following someone like this before. It blends into traffic, we lost it somewhere in the rush. They took the busiest possible streets…"
Brass waved him away, sighing as he rubbed his head. This wasn't good, wasn't good at all. With the threats Sara and Grissom related to him, they were already looking for a body. He traded regretful looks with Sara; the brunette was almost in tears. He knew that they were close friends; he himself liked Greg as well. It would be hard to accept everything, something so soon after Nick's own kidnapping. That was hard enough, and Nick had come through alright.
"He helped a killer escape," Ecklie's voice could be heard as he walked in the room, following Grissom. "I am sorry, I really am, but Greg put himself into this own situation."
"He saved our lives Conrad," Grissom reminded him sharply. "We have to do something!"
"Last we know they were headed in a southerly direction. Traffic was slow, but once they hit the back roads...who knows how fast they'll go." Brass reported dimly.
"Great," Sara spat angrily. "That means he could be anywhere between here and somewhere in Mexico by now."
"That's a lot of desert to search," Grissom replied quietly.
"I'll get some choppers on it," Ecklie told him with a nod, his way of leaving the room.
"I'll get some patrols out there, maybe we'll catch up with their car," Brass put in with a nod.
"I'm going with Brass," Sara called out, leaving the room shortly after him.
Grissom was left to himself, contemplating everything over. Somehow he felt like they weren't going to win in this one.
He wasn't sure why it was so dark, or why his back hurt so much. His first reaction was surprise, when he opened his eyes to see the stars shining overhead. They looked so clear, clearer than he had ever seen before.
A chill of wind passed him over, sending a chill through his body. It all came back to him then, and he sat up quickly…maybe a little too quickly. He felt woozy, a hand pressed to his head while the other steady himself. Whatever had been in the water had certainly not agreed with his body.
He coughed a few times, spitting to the side in attempt to clear the bitter taste from his mouth. A quick glance at his surroundings told him that he was in trouble. There was no road, no lights…no way of knowing where he was.
Another blast of wind passed by, Greg wrapped his arms around his chest, staving off the cold. He had no jacket either…no food, no water…and for all he knew the crap he had before could have dehydrated him even more. Cleaver plan, on the killer's part.
There would be no way to prove that he was even involved in Greg's death. By the time the lab found him whatever had been in his system would be gone. There would be nothing left to tie him to the killer, even though they knew it was him.
Greg let out a bitter sigh, shivering the cold. It had been daylight the last time he remembered…how long had he been asleep? He glanced to the sky, eyeing the moon that was nearly overhead. Now he was beginning to wish he had paid more attention in astronomy.
Slowly he pushed himself to his feet, waiting to walk until he was certain that he would stay up. Once again he searched the sky, gazing over the stars. He was looking for one certain one…the North Star.
He had no idea how far out he was, or what direction he had to go. All he needed was a direction, something that wouldn't change no matter where he went. He smiled despite the situation, there it was. Silently he prayed, thankful that it was a clear night.
With nothing much left to do but walk, he began his long trek. He doubted he would make it anywhere, but it was better than giving up.
He had been counting his steps, had been, that was, until he lost count. It was becoming harder to stay concentrated. Exhaustion was settling in along with the cold, hunger and dehydration. Greg was almost certain he was thirstier now than he was before.
Wetting his lips he continued on, his teeth chattering. The simple movement of walking wasn't enough to keep him warm, and the cold was slowly zapping his strength.
The only upside? He had found a road. Not some old dirt road either, but he believed it to be a highway. That had to be a good thing. Someone would surely come by sooner or later. He prayed sooner, for he definitely wanted to continue on living. But if he die, which was a grand possibility even still, at least he would be by a state road, it meant someone would find him before the animals got him, it would mean a better chance of a conviction for their guy.
It was uncertain how long he had been walking; his feet ached, along with the rest of his body. Greg wasn't even certain he was going anywhere. Long ago he had left the North Star alone. It would start to disappear here soon anyways, and opted to follow the winding road for a while. After all, he had to end up somewhere, right?
At first he wasn't sure what he was seeing, far off into the distance, behind the hill came a glow. Maybe a fire, that would be good, for him at least. That would mean firefighters, that would mean people. He picked up his pace some, realizing dully that it was the wrong color for a fire…more of a flashing.
A grin of relief spread across his face, as the car turned the corner, lights flashing. He felt like crying, and laughing at the same time, but he was so spent that he couldn't muster up the courage to do either.
At first they didn't seen him, the obvious clue that they didn't detour off their route. But as they came closer the headlights blinded him, until the high beams were turned off. The car had barely come to a stop before the passenger door opened, Sara jumping out.
The sound of her voice was a relief, and Greg couldn't even answer as she threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. It was then he started to cry, holding onto her, leaning into her warm embrace.
"You're freezing," Sara breathed, moving back to pull her coat off. Greg didn't detest as she wrapped the fabric around his shoulders, pulling it closed in front of him. He was shaking still, feeling for the first time how cold he really was.
Behind them Brass came walking on, talking on the phone. Greg could make bits and pieces out of his conversation as Sara pulled him into another hug.
"He's here, we have him….yeah, he's okay," he pulled the phone to the side, directing the next question at Greg, "You okay?"
Greg nodded, unable to answer through chattering teeth, leaning his head back on Sara's shoulder. He felt so incredibly safe…hardly able to believe that it was all over.
"What happened? How did you get away?"
Greg shook his head, clearing his throat. By now his voice was raspy, and it was hard to even talk. "He drugged me…with something…I guess he figured the elements would cover me up…"
"Guess he wasn't as smart as he figured, huh?"
Greg nodded, leaning against her one more time. Sara hugged him dearly, holding him close, as if afraid she would never see him again. "Let's go home."
"Everyone's looking for you."
Greg glanced up, meeting his supervisor's gaze. Shaking his head he turned away, his voice low, "Not now…"
Grissom nodded, understanding the young man's position. "You would have soaked up all this attention a year ago."
Greg nodded, "That was a year ago, this is now."
"Well, what happened?"
Greg shrugged, but he did glance up at him again. "I guess I grew up."
A smile crossed his face, and felt a twinge a disappointment. Greg had grown up so much over these last several years, it was hard to believe that this was the same man before him. "Just don't grow up too fast. Then you won't have anything left in life to live for."
Greg watched him quietly, a questioning look crossed his face, but Grissom didn't say anything else to the effect. "Come on, I'll walk back with you."
Greg let out a sigh, but smiled to himself quietly. Grissom was right, even if he didn't understand what he meant by it all. Pushing himself up from the bench he joined Grissom in the stroll down the hallway, ready to join his friends once more.
The End