Back to life, back to reality,
Back to life, back to reality
Back to life, back to reality
Back to the here and now
Show me how you decide what you want from me
Tell me maybe I could be there for you
Soul II Soul – Back to Life

A betting man, asked to lay odds on the ability of Catherine Willows trying to act innocent, or at best incurious, would have passed up the bet without hesitation. However, as Catherine had banished Warrick and Greg to the bowels of the building she gave herself a player's chance of talking to Greg without having to deal with the sound of dice being rolled down the corridor after her.

How the hell I did get myself into this, she thought to herself, mentally cursing Grissom. A continuation of this line of thought was curtailed by the omnipresent voice of her conscience, which gently reminded her that she had in fact volunteered and that blaming her friend and boss was somewhat unjust, probably therapeutic, but nonetheless, unjust.

Catherine composed herself, or at least attempted to appear innocuous. She felt a bit like a character out of that Sixties television programme Mission Impossible, where the ubiquitous voice of the unseen secretary challenged her to act completely out of character in order to achieve, well, the impossible. Not that Greg was impossible, it was just that he was far from stupid, and having her appear in his lab within the hour of his having resigned, would colour even the most oblivious person slightly suspicious.

Well, ok, it wasn't like she was going to strap him to the gas chromatograph and beat an answer out of him, well not unless he proved particularly intransigent, but she wasn't leaving the lab without an answer.

Unless of course he told her to go away that is.

Nearing the lab, Catherine could see no sign of Greg. That's strange, she thought, he seldom leaves his sanctuary when he's here. Moving closer she saw that Greg was indeed in the lab, but that he was on the horizontal rather than the customary vertical, not, she noted wryly, was there anything that could be called customary about Greg's usual behaviours.

Addressing the legs that were sticking out from under the desk, Catherine softly inquired "Greg?" When she received no response she raised her voice and was rewarded by solid thump and a stream of profanity. The legs slid out from under the desk followed by the body and unsurprisingly, the head of the lab tech.

"Catherine" came the somewhat groggy response, "what can I do for you?"

"Have you identified my blue mystery yet, I just thought I'd pop in and check", the excuse sounded vaguely plausible.

"Ummmm, sort of, I was just chasing it under the desk when you arrived"

"Do know what it is?"

"It came from that industrial chemist's, right?" receiving the redhead's nod of confirmation, Greg continued. "It seems to be some sort of synthesized polymer, copper, silicon, the usual suspects. However, the DNA analyser says it's got chains of various animal's DNA as well, anyway what it essentially comes down to is that your little blue ball is photo and audio-sensitive, kinda like silly putty on acid. Seems to be best friends with Newtown's third law, I turned on the stereo and the feedback nearly deafened me. I wouldn't recommend throwing it at anyone, the recoil would probably kill you". Pausing, Greg looked Catherine in the eye, "is that all?"

"Err… No".

"Surprise, Surprise – and what else can I help you with? … Like…oh,… let me see, … how about, why am I leaving?"

"You got me I guess". Well I knew he wasn't stupid Catherine thought; it would have been nice though. "So Greg, why ARE you leaving?"

"I don't really feel like telling you, it doesn't affect you and frankly it's none of your business", there was a dangerous glint in the tech's eye when he said this and Catherine briefly considered leaving things there, but discretion, having never been one of her strong points, was unceremoniously shoved aside as her curiosity stomped all over the proprieties common to polite society. Truth be told, she rationalised, as a scientist it was her job to get to the truth.

"Grissom was somewhat confused, he said your reason had something to do with Mahler"

Greg was unsure whether to laugh or cry at this comment, although his response was laced with irony, "Well it's nice to see he was paying attention; maybe if I had wings"

"If you had wings Greg, he'd stick a pin through you".

"Maybe so, but at least he'd pay me a bit of serious attention".

"Is that what this is about Greg, you feeling neglected?" Catherine tried, but failed, to keep a slightly patronising tone out of her voice".

"If I'd wanted your contempt Catherine, I'd have stayed around to work" was the acid response, "but anyway, to answer you question, it's not you guys it's me" Greg winced, "ugh, that sounds like I've refused a date with you all. No, the simple answer is that there are things that I want to do, and I don't want to do them here, and really, there is nothing holding me here".

The latter comment caught Catherine by surprise. She wasn't sure if the department had just been insulted or if Greg was truly that unhappy with his job, and if so, why?

Thinking back over the time she had been working for the LVPD all her memories of the job were happy ones – disregarding the blood, the bodies and the continual exposure to those aspects of human existence that made a strong argument for universal euthanasia.

She thought of her friends: especially Grissom, the things she had learnt, and perhaps more importantly, she thought of the life she escaped from. But giving thanks for what she had didn't allow her to understand Greg. Actually, she didn't think that even if she knew why Greg wanted to leave she'd understand him they were just too different.

If Catherine Willows had thought a little deeper and a little harder she would have realised that that was the problem right there, the assumption of difference and the assumption that she had nothing in common with the lab tech. Her origins hardly spoke of a life of ease and acceptance and that alone should have given her some understanding of the lab tech's sense of isolation. Had she thought back to her first days on the job when she knew no-one and transferred that feeling forward perhaps she would have generated a little empathy; instead she sat and she wondered and failed to understand, and that was the summation and the condemnation of the CSI unit in Greg's eyes, he was searching for not so much acceptance as peace, peace of mind and peace of heart, but his heart was not here.

"Has the interrogation finished yet Catherine?

"What does it really matter if I leave; it isn't like lab techs are an endangered species, unless – I hasten to add - the last graduating class from the university was wiped out in a freak accident, and that's what you're here to tell me.

"There are other things I want to do and what I do here can be done by someone else. So tell me Catherine, what is it you want?"

The harshness of his words didn't ring true, but the object of his ire failed to notice, instead she had recoiled slightly beaten back by the bitterness she thought she perceived.

"Grissom would think otherwise Greg, you know how highly he rates your work…you do know?"

"Yes Catherine, all the praise and compliments I get clearly demonstrate Grissom's regard for my work, but again, I am not leaving because of the job, or Grissom or for any other reason that concerns you. Sure, I don't feel I get the respect my work deserves but life is far too short to worry about it. And yes, if I was staying I might address it, but I am leaving for me, not because of something else, there's not a lot more I can say really"

Catherine was about to respond when Warrick stuck his head round the doorframe, "Sorry to interrupt guys, Cath, we've got a live one, well actually a dead one and we're up so …" and jerking his head for her to follow he turned and left.

Catherine shrugged, "OK Greg, this is your fairytale, I've gotta go, but think on this, who are you selling short here?" and with that she was gone.

The lab tech shrugged and if anyone were around to listen they would have heard him mutter something about an alien abduction being so much easier.