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.

Notes: I'd apologize for taking so long with this chapter, but it wouldn't be sincere. Yes, I wished I'd gotten it out sooner but considering I finally had my baby I'm sure you all understand why I didn't. That aside, this chapter was extremely hard to write but I'm very happy with the outcome.

"I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief."

Gerry Spence

Chapter 3: Belief

His conversation with Grissom had been very much to the point. Greg did his best to down play his own concerns, feeling that he might be overreacting, but to his surprise Grissom didn't seem to think he was at all.

However, there wasn't much that could be done. Grissom said he'd alert Brass and that at best they'd look into Jane, but that was it. He told Greg to keep an eye out for her or for anything suspicious and to keep him informed. He also stressed that should he run into Jane again he should avoid her at all costs. Grissom didn't want Greg talking with her at all outside of work if it could be helped.

Not entirely relieved, Greg had agreed. Really there wasn't much to go on. All they had was a first name and a description that matched half the twenty-something's in town. It was the best any of them could do.

Trying his best to put it from his mind and concentrate at the task at hand Greg was glad for the interruption Sara provided.

"You busy?" she asked after tapping lightly at the door.

"I wouldn't be if you were helping me like you promised," he offered back with a smile.

"I help you, you help me," Sara returned. "Got a murder in North Vegas. Interested?"

"What kind?"

"What, now you're picky?" she shot back. "Use to be you'd beg to come along for a smash and grab."

"That was before I knew what I was getting myself into."

"Come on," she prodded. "It sounds routine. It won't take too long and it will give you a break from all this paperwork."

Greg looked down at the stacks of insurance claims and policies he had laid out before him in a vain effort to pin Leo Evans on fraud charges.

"We can even stop for coffee on the way," Sara persisted.

Greg wasn't moved.

"My treat."

"Yeah," Greg nodded, shuffling papers back together, "okay. It's not like I'm getting anywhere on this."

Sara smiled and waited for him to finish.

"It really isn't going to take long?" he questioned as they headed towards the garage after retrieving their cases.

"Nope. It'll be a piece of cake."

It was hard to even determine where they should begin. Sofia had met them at the entrance of the apartment and he knew from the odd smile on her face that his night had just gotten longer.

"Victim's name is Robert Cummings, forty-seven, lives alone. Neighbors hadn't seen him in a few days, got suspicious and forced their way in through the patio door."

Sara nodded and both of them followed her inside.

Greg winced upon crossing the threshold, taken back by the smell. It wasn't just the smell of a decomp that hit him, the place would likely have reeked regardless. Undoubtedly somewhere hiding had to be at least a dozen cats, a weeks worth of rotten garbage and something that was emitting a vague cabbage-like odor. Greg blinked several times adjusting to it. Sara and Sofia both seemed completely undisturbed.

And it wasn't just the smell, it was the mess. The apartment was filled with boxes and newspapers. There didn't seem to be a single spot on the floor or the furniture that wasn't littered in trash.

"How long has this guy been dead?" he asked as they weaved their way through it and to the back bedroom.

"Three days at least," David answered, still kneeling over the body. "Maybe more. Air conditioning was turned way down, slowed the decomposition, but not much."

Sara and Greg stood shoulder to shoulder as they looked down at the remains of Mr. Cummings. He was naked except for a towel lying face down in a pool of dried blood.

"Looks like blunt force trauma to the head," Sofia said to the both of them.

"Maybe a robbery gone badly," Sara said still looking down at the body. "Could have surprised him while he was getting ready for the shower."

Greg looked over his shoulder at the room. It, like the rest of the apartment, was stacked to the ceiling with boxes and looked completely unlivable.

"If this was a robbery, how are we going to know if anything was taken?" he asked in disbelief.

"Good luck with that," Sofia said smiling. "I'm going to go talk to the neighbors."

Sofia stepped around them both, still smiling, as she made for the door.

"Yeah," David said getting to his feet, eager to escape as well, "just let me know when you're ready for me to take the body."

With that he was gone, leaving the just the two of them in what had to be the filthiest crime scene Greg had ever come across.

"Piece of cake huh?"

They made it back to the lab just in time for shift change. Feeling bad about dragging him out to what should have been a very routine case, Sara had offered to buy breakfast. While not willing to let her pay, or buy her way out of it that easily, Greg couldn't say no either and after everything was labeled and stored they headed to the diner down the street together.

"So," Sara said just after their food arrived, "what are you doing with your day off?"

"Nothing really," he admitted. "Go home, catch some sleep and then probably come back in to try and catch up."

"Oh," she said, sounding surprised.

"Why?" he asked in between bites of pancakes.

"I just thought you'd be going out or something."

"Like on a date."

"Yeah," Sara returned, looking down at her plate.

Greg let out a small laugh.

"I don't really get out as much as I use to."

Sara nodded, still looking down.

"Actually," he went on, "this is the closest I've come to date in the last six months. Not that this…"

Greg trailed off and looked down at his own plate intently thinking that sometimes he'd just be better off keeping his mouth shut.

Sara abruptly changed the topic by relating the contents of the latest article she'd read in the Forensics Journal. Honestly, Greg was relieved. More and more they'd been having these little awkward moments between them. Ones he just didn't know what to do about.

Not that he didn't like Sara, he really did. He'd spent a couple of years even trying to get her to go out with him to no avail. Greg didn't take it personally; it was just one of those things. Sure, she'd never come out and flatly told him she wasn't interested, but she'd never accepted either. And regardless of what most people thought, he could take a hint. She just wasn't interested in him.

He'd settled for friendship and found that it suited them both. They had a fun and flirty camaraderie that was easy to enjoy, but lately it felt stilted. Like it could be more, but it wasn't. Then there were moments when it was just tense, like now, for no real reason. Greg wasn't sure what to make of it, what it meant, or if it meant anything at all.

His only option really was to ignore it. If the circumstances had been different, he'd know exactly what to do, but not now. Sara was his friend and you just didn't ask out your friends like that, chemistry or no. It wasn't worth risking what they already had for what they could have. Besides there was work to consider. If they got involved and it ended badly, where would that leave them?

Even worse, what if he was completely misreading the situation? What if he was just imagining it? Awkward would be replaced by mortifying in a matter of seconds, and Greg definitely didn't want to go there.

They both finished their breakfasts and hung out a while longer but not much, saying a quick goodbye in the parking lot.

As Greg got into his car it dawned on him that he'd left his jacket behind. Darting inside he found it just where he'd left it. The waitress gave him a small smile as he tugged it back on. Turning to go he ran smack into Jane.

At first Greg was just going to step around her and keep heading for the door, but the expectant look on her face stopped him cold.

"I know I shouldn't be here," she began, holding up both hands and then quickly dropping them back to her side. "I just … I had to come tell you now. I may not have another chance."

"If you really want to talk to me we can go…"

"No," she said animatedly. "No. I don't trust ... and it has nothing…"

Jane stopped and looked down, clearly growing upset.

Greg sighed and shook his head, fully aware he was about to do something that was probably stupid and exactly the opposite of what Grissom had told him to do.

"Why don't we sit down here and talk then," he suggested, much to her relief.

Greg slid back into the booth he'd just abandoned and Jane quickly followed, moving in directly across from him.

The waitress came back and eyed him suspiciously. He realized it must look odd, seeing as he'd just ate and left, but didn't have the energy to worry about what she must be thinking.

"What can I get you hon?"

"Coffee," Greg said automatically.

"And you?" she asked, turning to Jane.

"Wheat toast, dry, without the crust and grape jelly on the side please."

"Anything to drink?"

"Just water."

The waitress gave them both one more odd look before leaving them alone.

"So?" Greg asked, hoping to get this over with quick.

"I know you must think this is all just strange, but really, I've never done this type of thing before."

"I'm not sure…"

"Give me a minute," she interrupted, "I'm trying to explain."

Jane paused and looked down at her hands in serious contemplation. She'd almost begun speaking again when their order arrived, but held off until they were alone again.

"I've been having these dreams. They aren't very clear, but I've been having them for months now. Sometimes I see a bit more but mostly it's just a quick snatch of a place or a sound."

Greg nodded and tried not to look too incredulous.

"The last few weeks it's gotten worse," she went on. "I'm having them every night now and …"

She trailed off as her face grew grim.

"Okay," Greg cut in, "but what does this have to do with me?"

"I told you. You're the one who is going to solve it. You're going to stop it all."

"I think you've got the wrong person," Greg said with a small shake of his head.

"No, I don't."

"Alright, so what can you tell me about these dreams."

"Not much," she said as she began to tear her toast into tiny pieces. "I don't remember much about them. All I get are impressions really."

"Like blue?"

Jane smiled at him, glad he'd remembered.

"Yes."

"That's not a lot to go off of."

"I know," she admitted. "If I could tell you more, I would."

"Jane," Greg started cautiously. "I want to believe you. I do, but…"

"You think I'm lying," she finished.

"No," he corrected. "Not lying. But try to see it from my perspective. You haven't really told me a lot and I don't even know who you are. Plus, you keep turning up…"

She nodded with a funny smile on her face.

"I wouldn't believe me either," she told him, "but you have to. Please. I'm not making this up. People are going to get hurt. It's going to start over again."

Greg quirked an eyebrow at her, curious as to what that could mean, but Jane seemed not to notice.

"What's going to start over?"

Jane shook her head, at a loss herself.

For a full minute they sat in silence. Greg downed the last of his coffee and knew that he should be going.

"You didn't tell me why I should believe you," he finally said, and then added on as an afterthought. "And your name isn't really Jane, is it?"

"I'm not a real blond either," she answered with a shrug.

"Who is," he returned and for the first time she gave him a real smile.

"That doesn't mean I'm not telling the truth."

"No, it doesn't. But it would help me trust you."

She seemed to be thinking this over as she picked up his empty coffee cup and turned it round in her hands several times.

"My real name is Ashley," she finally said. "Ashley Baker."

There didn't seem to be anything more to say, so with that Greg put down enough money to cover the tab and said a quick goodbye once more asking her to call the lab or police department if she had anything else. Hoping that that would keep her from popping up unexpectedly at him, but seriously doubting it would.

He stood to go but Ashley didn't seem to be ready. Instead she continued to sit there, still holding that cup. Hesitantly he made his way past her, but didn't get far before her voice rang out to him.

"He's sick, isn't he?"

Greg turned back around, not sure if he'd heard her correctly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Has been for some time."

Greg felt frozen to the spot, completely thunderstruck.

"You're worried that if you don't go home soon it'll be too late. But you're not sure if you're ready to accept it yet either."

He tried to ask her how? How she could possibly know any of that and where she'd heard it from. It just wasn't possible. It wasn't something he'd told anyone.

Ashley finally turned round to face him, her face completely blank.

"Now do you believe me?"