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I awoke to light streaming through the window and the sound of sirens. I looked at my watch and saw that it was two hours after I went to sleep. And the sound of sirens grew to a loud screech and then suddenly stopped. I went out into the hallway to be almost run over by an EMT. I jumped back into the room until they went back into the morgue and then brought their stretcher back to the front, only much slower this time. It was followed by Catherine and Grissom, both of them with a more than somber expression on their faces.
"Whoa, what happened?" I asked, confused and curious.
Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but she choked on her words and ran down the hall. Her hands covered her face, but I knew she was crying. I turned to Grissom with a look of shock and questioning.
"Doc died. It looks like old age." And he walked after the stretcher.
I was shell-shocked. That couldn't happen. He was Doc. He was going to live forever.
I couldn't think about it for long before I got a call on my cell phone. I didn't recognize the number, and was about to not call it when I got a feeling in my stomach that could only mean that something was wrong. I quickly opened my cell to hear a grating voice announcing: "Hello, I am doctor Grenada Hales. You are the emergency contact of a master Greg Sanders. Earlier today his apartment complex caught on fire, killing Mr. Sanders. We are sorry. We ask you to contact his immediate family in the area so his funeral arrangements can be made. Thank you."
I just stood there, my phone to my ear, hearing the ringing of the dial tone but not being able to move any of my muscles. Greg, my best friend, was dead? This couldn't be happening. I closed my phone and wandered through the halls, looking for Grissom. I found him in his office, hands placed together in a loose position of someone that was praying. His eyes were closed, and for a second, I thought that maybe he was dead too. But he opened his eyes and asked what was wrong.
"The hospital just called me," I said, throat closing, almost blocking off all noise that could come from my body. "Greg's apartment complex went up in flames. He died." As I was about to walk out, I heard him say,
"I'll call his parents. He was a really good CSI. I want to be the one to tell them that."
Greg would have been so proud to know that Grissom felt that way. If only Grissom could have told him that while he was still alive.
I walked to the reception area to keep leave so I could examine my crime scene again, for working was the only thing that my empty shell could do. Work Work Work. I almost reached the reception area when I saw Tina and Warrick.
"I'm leaving you. I made such a mistake marrying you. You are nothing like David."
"Tina, please, anything that is wrong we can work out…"
"No, I'm gone."
Tina walked away, and Warrick followed her, trying to calm her down. But at that moment, I saw Catherine in the doorway to the woman's bathroom. Her face looked slack, with only anger and sadness as the emotions to fill the void. I tried to say something to her, like to tell her the real contents of their conversation, or the fact that Greg died, but she ran out. I leaned up against the wall and slid down into a sitting position on the floor when my phone started ringing again. The last time I picked up my phone, I thought, it told me that somebody died. Maybe if I don't pick it up… No, that is childish. So I opened my phone and listened to the other end.
"Hey Sara, it's Brass. Nick was working in your crime scene when he got poisoned. Something in the air. The doctors said it is Mercury or something. He's in the hospital. He's as mad as a hatter, but I think he wants to see you. Hurry on by. I've got to go to another scene, but I don't want to leave him here by himself."
I quickly closed my phone and rushed to Desert Palms.