Foretold by SLynn

Summary: A woman walks into the crime lab only to tell Greg Sanders about her murder, a murder he's going to solve. Is she just playing games or is it something more?

Spoilers: Through 'Gum Drops'

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing and will return them all when I'm done, virtually untouched.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action."

Auric Goldfinger

Chapter 2: Coincidence

The end of shift came quicker than Greg could have wished for. There had been no new cases to go out on and with Sara's help they had put a fairly large dent in work at hand. He hadn't even had time to go over the crowd photos, as he'd planned, from the gas station homicides, and that was probably for the best.

Sara had been certain that once he had, Jane wouldn't even be in them. She'd told him that typically people that do come in with false information end up being no where near the crime when it takes place. Sara was certain Jane was a fake and by the end of the night, Greg was too.

And that's why he liked working with her.

Anyone else would have probably made him feel stupid for even thinking that woman might have something new to tell, but not Sara. She was really good at giving advice and direction without making you feel like you needed it.

Greg sat down at his locker, almost too tired to open it and retrieve his stuff when he heard the doors open up to his left.

Nick came in followed shortly by Sara, both smiling and as glad to be going home as he was.

"Greg," Nick said sitting down next to him, "we're all going to breakfast, you in?"

"Not today," he answered, glancing quickly to Sara and then back to Nick, "I'm just too beat. I'll fall asleep in my eggs. Next time."

"Come on," Nick prodded, "Warrick's bringing Tina. Aren't you at least curious to meet her?"

"The only thing I'm curious about right now is what I might dream."

Sara smiled and Nick shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

"I'll send your best," Nick said, heading back for the door.

"Do that," Greg returned.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Sara asked, having hung back on purpose to ask again.

"I want to," Greg answered, really meaning it, "I just can't. I'll be lucky if I make the drive home."

"One of us could give you a lift," she suggested. "You probably shouldn't be driving anyway. I don't mind dropping you off."

Greg smiled and was really tempted to take her up on it, but had second thoughts.

"No," he finally said. "Really, that's okay. If you did that then you'd have to come pick me back up or I'd have to find a way back to my car later. It's not worth the hassle it would cause you. Thanks though."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," he said with a nod and a smile. "Besides, I'm sure I have some stale kind of breakfast food lying around my place."

"Okay," she said smiling back as she too retreated for the door.

Sara hadn't been gone long before she was back.

"Greg," she called, catching his attention once more, "don't forget to pay your rent."

"Thanks," he said with a laugh.

"I'd hate to see you sleeping in your car," she said as she left once more.

Greg woke up around four that afternoon, not exactly rejuvenated, but feeling better than before.

The plan was to go for a quick jog, shower and then have dinner. After accomplishing two of the three, he realized he didn't have anything for dinner. Well, nothing edible. There was some two week old milk that almost qualified as cottage cheese, what looked like three shrunken apples and not much else.

He had no choice but to go grocery shopping.

Greg hated the super market. He hated it because there was no right time to go. Vegas was a twenty-four seven town and that meant that at any given time two-thirds of the city was off work. And of that two-thirds, nearly half of them were at the super market. It was always crowded, always under stocked and always a pain in the ass.

But he had little choice.

He could just go get something to go, but then he'd be back in this same situation tomorrow. It was better to just get it over with.

Greg put together a quick mental list before heading to the local Smith's. After two near misses from other disgruntled shoppers, he found a spot, only to end up dodging another three cars to make his way inside.

He was halfway through the store, rounding the corner to the snack food aisle, when he stopped.

Up ahead, seemingly unaware of him, was Jane.

Greg had two options. He could either continue down the aisle and ignore her, or he could turn back around and skip the aisle altogether.

Ultimately the need for pecan sandies won out and he pressed forward. After all, she might not remember him. She might turn and go at any moment without seeing him.

Or she could be waiting for him.

Jane turned just as he got close and offered up a weak smile. Greg nodded at her in recognition and stopped, not sure what to do next.

"I don't normally shop here," she said, putting the box of animal crackers she'd been holding back on the shelf.

Greg looked around and realized she didn't have a cart, she didn't even have a basket.

"Doesn't look like your doing much shopping," he said after a pause.

"I was thinking of buying those," she said, indicating the crackers behind her, "but I'd never eat them."

"I don't like the plain myself," Greg supplied, feeling the need to say something. "The frosted ones are better."

"They're bitter."

Greg raised an eyebrow, not sure what she meant.

"The plain," she continued. "They're bitter. They taste like lemons. That and I never really liked clowns. I don't know why I thought of buying them."

"I really shouldn't be talking to you," Greg said, feeling suddenly awkward.

"Oh," Jane said, shifting from foot to foot, "I get that."

"Outside of work," he went on, feeling like he was being rude but not knowing any other way to get around her.

"I didn't really get a chance to talk to you today," Jane pressed sounding more focused then before. "I still have a lot to tell you."

"Well," he said, getting ready to move forward, "you can call the station and set up another interview."

"But you don't work there," she said, shaking her head. "You work at the lab. I don't really need to talk to anyone but you. If you have some time now…"

"No," Greg cut her off firmly. "I can't now. I'm running late for work."

"Then should I call the lab?" she questioned, as he pushed his cart past her and began to move down the aisle again.

"The station," he said without looking back. "Call the station."

Greg made it around the corner and didn't look back. Instead of finishing his shopping he headed straight to check out and was relieved not to run into Jane again.

Racing home quicker than usual he hastily put away his things, changed and headed back to the lab.

Greg had photos to check.

An hour before shift change Warrick walked in on Greg in the A/V room.

"You're either looking to make level two in record time or someone is seriously on your ass to finish these cases," he said with half a smile.

Greg didn't return it, just kept clicking through photos on the computer.

"What's up?" Warrick asked, coming closer and getting concerned.

"What would you say is wrong with these pictures?"

Greg stood letting Warrick have his chair. After a few moments of scrolling through thumbnails Warrick caught on.

"Who is that?"

"That's Jane," Greg answered shaking his head. "She came in yesterday saying she had information, but not about that case."

Warrick opened one particular picture up, a good shot that showed her complete face.

"Sara and Brass said she was probably attention seeking," Greg continued, feeling him out for his opinion.

"Yeah," Warrick nodded, "I've met my fair share of the type."

"But they also said she probably wasn't at the scene."

Warrick didn't answer that, just shrugged. Usually that type wasn't at the scene. The typical scenario was that they'd hear it on the news, on a scanner, wherever and then show up claiming to have something significant when, nine times out of ten, they have no involvement or connection at all.

"She's definitely at the scene," Warrick returned. "Did you take these?"

Greg nodded.

"How?"

"The way you taught me to," he answered. "As quickly as I could without attracting attention."

"Then how…"

"I don't know."

Warrick scrolled back through the photos and shook his head again. Every single crowd shot Jane was in; she was looking right into the camera. Every one of them. It was uncanny and a bit unnerving.

"It gets stranger," Greg said after a moments pause.

"How?"

"I ran into her tonight."

"Where? Here?"

"I wish," Greg returned. "She was at the store. I was shopping and it was like she was waiting for me."

Warrick looked at him seriously and realized Greg seemed a bit rattled. He was fidgeting more than normal and tapping his foot incessantly.

"That could be a coincidence," Greg went on, "couldn't it?"

"A pretty big one."

Greg nodded. He knew that, just needed someone else to say the same.

"What should I do?"

"Your phone's unlisted right?"

Greg nodded.

"Go to Grissom," Warrick supplied. "He needs to know and you might have to call Brass, too."

"You think…"

"I think it's better if you play this safe."