Six years, and he's finally looking at the face again, of the young CSI that left the lab because of both of their mistakes.

It's different though; he's aged a lot since then, became skinnier, paler… lifeless. Six years and the young CSI that managed to escape the confines of the lab now lay in a run down hotel, the sheets around him stained with his own blood, his name printed on a label and placed, once again, on a case file.

The CSI kneels down next to the bed, forgetting the officers and other CSI's walking around him, talking about the discovery made by one of the underpaid housekeepers. The opened eyes are empty, lifeless, and the CSI realizes that it's not much different from the last time he looked into them. It's something he can't handle, and he finds himself reaching a gloved hand over the pale face, his actions gentle as he closes the eyelids, lets out a deep breath, and straightens back up again.

"David, get the body back to the lab. Have Doc Robbins clean him up and perform the autopsy."

The coroner hesitates for a moment, still a bit shell shocked at seeing the former lab tech laying here. Although what happened six years ago has become a taboo subject around the lab, it's still well known what happened and David can't help but feel a deep anger at the CSI giving orders from nearby, knowing that it was his actions that ultimately brought them all here.

He doesn't let his anger show, however, as he and a coroner's assistant lay out the black body bag on the bed next to Greg's lifeless form, being more careful than normal as he moves the body and zips up the bag, placing it on a waiting gurney and covering it with a white sheet.

Sara is standing just outside the hotel with Warrick by her side, tears tracking down both of their faces as they watch the gurney being loaded into the van and David disappears into the driver's seat, pulling away from the scene.

The officers that were initially dispatched when the body was found are starting to leave, and soon it's only the three CSI's left at the scene, Sara unable to handle going back into the hotel room as she stays outside, Warrick making sure she's okay before going back inside. The other CSI is still standing next to the bed, his eyes focused on the blood stain covering the mattress and sheets, and he only pulls his gaze up when he realizes he's not alone.

"I'm taking Sara back to the lab, there's no case here." His voice is cold, his lips drawn, and he wants to put as much distance between him and the other man as he can, but the other CSI's response only brings him closer to him, Warrick's hands balled into fists at his side.

"This isn't my fault Rick. I know you that's what you're thinking, that what happened all those years ago is what caused this, but it's been six years, he could have gotten help in that time."

"He did get help Nick, he was getting help when you caused all of this to happen."

Warrick forces himself to back down, to back away, because now the man that stands in front of him could easily take the job from him. He still finds it hard to believe that Nick's the supervisor over the graveyard shift, but he should have seen it coming, the Texan now holding a safe place right in Ecklie's pocket. It's something he needed after the investigation into the shift was closed and Grissom was forced to resign, because from that day on Nick became the enemy, especially after he accepted the promotion from Ecklie.

The older CSI doesn't know why he's still here, why he's stuck around after all of this, he has yet to be able to forgive his former best friend for his actions, and he knows Greg's death will only drive the wedge deeper between them. He leaves without another word, trying to get his anger in check, and he only barely glances back at the hotel as he pulls away, Sara sitting silently in the passenger seat with her head resting against the window.

Nick can hear the sound of the Denali pulling away, and he stands silent in the room for a moment, closing his eyes briefly and hoping that his headache will go away. This is the last thing he needs right now, Greg's death stirring up the past, but he knows he's got to face it.

After a few moments he finally manages to look at his surroundings. The room is filthy, take-out cartons littering the floor, empty liquor bottles tipped over, and he never could have imagined the former CSI ending up in one of these places, where they find drug addicts and alcoholics, living in their own filth that they've allowed to pile up around them.

There's not very many personal belongings around the room, mostly just rank clothing that's been worn many times without being washed, and Nick carefully picks up a few shirts, putting them in a small pile in a corner of the room, not really sure what he's doing, his mind not really focusing on his actions.

Soon all of the shirts are piled in the corner and the only two pairs of jeans are sitting on a chair, Nick carefully reaching into the pockets, checking for anything that they might contain before tossing them with the shirts. The heat from outside is causing beads of sweat to drip from his forehead, and Nick wipes them away with the sleeve of his shirt as he takes another look around the room, still unsure of what, if anything, he's looking for.

A trash can nearby catches his attention and Nick picks it up, rifling through the minimal contents before setting it back down, the Texan kneeling down and lifting up the comforter that's fallen over the mattress, looking under the bed as something finally piques his interest.

He lets the comforter fall back over the side of the bed before moving towards the head of the mattress, kneeling down and feeling around on the ground until his hand brushes over what he's looking for, the small spiral weightless in his hand as he picks it up off the ground and holds it. He moves to straighten back up but his gaze finally catches on what he's been trying to avoid this whole time, his vision becoming washed with the dark crimson stains when he realizes he's eye level with the bloodied sheets.

For the first time since he walked into the room and identified the body, Nick finds himself trying to fight the tears. His body is shaking when he finally manages to pull his eyes away, and he slowly lowers himself to sit on the end of the bed where there's no blood, the spiral resting on his knee as he opens it, flipping through several pages of Greg's handwriting.

It's all just a bunch of mindless rambling, nothing really making sense until Nick gets to the last page, the entry in the small journal dated only a few days ago, the handwriting steady and clear as opposed to the other pages.

I still see it when I sleep, feel the explosion against my back, smell the stench of burning flesh. I still see Tara Matthews, her body burned into an unrecognizable state, and sometimes I feel like that, like I became unrecognizable after the explosion. I can't handle it anymore, I want to drown out the images, the sounds of glass shattering around me, but it won't go away, I can't make it stop.

The tears are finally rolling down Nick's cheeks, and he closes his eyes for several long moments, feeling like he can't be here anymore. It's starting to settle in, what's happened, who caused it, and he drops the spiral on the ground as he quickly leaves the room, hands on his knees as he vomits in the rocky parking lot, unaware of the blood smearing from his gloves onto his jeans.

--

He can feel them staring at him, all of them watching as he makes his way down the halls of the CSI lab, their gazes finally dropping when he enters through the doors of the morgue, Doc Robbins looking up as the Texan enters his space.

He left the hotel room several hours ago, when he couldn't be there anymore, and he found himself out in the desert, in the place where Greg's car was towed from after the younger man never returned to retrieve it. He knew it could cost him his job, turning off his pager and phone, but he also knows he won't be missed if he were to be fired, the whole lab already against him for something that happened so long ago.

"Have you - has the autopsy been completed yet?"

Nick almost chokes on his own words and he's surprised to see a fleeting look of sympathy cross the older man's face, the coroner setting aside what he's doing with another body to cross the room. He stops at another body that's covered with a sheet, and Nick steps across the table so he's facing the older man, forcing himself to look at the face when the sheet is pulled back.

"I finished just a little while ago, cause of death is a single gun shot wound to the right temple, I've ruled it as a suicide. I also found skin cells under his fingernails and sent them up to DNA, they've been identified as his own."

Doc Robbins carefully turns the body onto it's side, holding it still as he points out the burn scars on Greg's back, Nick unconsciously lifting his hand up and allowing his fingers to brush over the jagged skin that's been torn open, the scratches littering the former CSI's back where he was scratching at the scars.

"These are the kind of marks I see on addicts all the time, but I ran a TOX screen and it came up negative for drugs or alcohol. He must have really been messed up to do that to himself without anything going through his system."

Doctor Robbins carefully rolls the body back over and after a moment longer re-covers it with the sheet, watching as Nick continues to stare at it. It's quite obvious that Nick is starting to realize his roll in all of this, and although the rest of the lab has turned against him, Doc Robbins can't help but feel for him.

"There's nothing else you can do for this case Nick, it was a simple suicide."

"Has his family been contacted yet?"

"His dad died of cancer when he was younger, and his mother was killed in a car accident a couple of years ago. The only family he has left doesn't live in the states, and they don't have the money to come here, let alone pay the funeral expenses. Luckily a private donor has offered to pay for the funeral arrangements, Warrick's setting them up right now."

"Private donor?"

"Yeah, he thinks it's someone from the lab. Whoever it is, said there's a no holds bar, they'll pay for Greg to get the best funeral."

Nick lets his gaze linger on the covered body before thanking the coroner, turning to leave the morgue and face the rest of the lab that is surely waiting for him to return so they can continue their glares and whispers.

--

He stands to the back, away from the rest of the group as the priest finishes reading a passage from the book he's holding. After one last prayer, the group of mourners begin to disperse, many walking up to the casket to place a single rose, and Nick's slightly taken back by the turn out around him, not realizing that this many people were affected enough by the former lab tech to remember him after six years and be willing to drop everything to say goodbye.

As the crowd begins to thin out, Nick slowly makes his way to Greg's final resting place, stopping in his tracks when he sees a man there he hadn't seen before, the only person left as the cars begin to file away. From the back, he can't really tell if he knows the older man with the graying hair, but as he steps closer, he's surprised to see a face he hasn't seen in almost six years.

"Grissom?"

The former supervisor doesn't seem all that surprised at Nick's sudden presence, the CSI stepping up next to the older man as Gil continues to stare at the flower arrangement adorning the casket, his hands buried in the pockets of his suit jacket.

It's been six years since the Texan took over the older man's job, and although Gil wants to be angry with him, after all this time he can't find the energy. A part of him knew that after Greg left things wouldn't be the same, the lab would be more quiet and serious compared to what Greg made it when he was around.

After the investigation ended and he was informed of Ecklie's decision to let him go, to fire him, Gil felt lost, unsure of what to do. He eventually decided to move back close to his mother, to help take care of her in her old age, and get a job as a consultant for the local police department. It wasn't easy adjusting to normal hours, and even after so long he still has a problem sleeping at night.

"I didn't expect you to be here, we haven't heard from you in a while."

He hasn't heard from him in a while, Nick doesn't realize Jim Brass and Catherine still keep in touch with him through emails and phone calls. Even once, a few years back, he managed to get in touch with Greg. It was shortly after the former CSI's mother passed away, he used his resources to track down Greg's hotel information. Although Greg felt he had convinced his former boss that he was okay, Gil could easily tell he wasn't, could remember the empty tone of his voice, and if he were there in person, is sure he would have seen it in his eyes as well.

"Life's been busy, a lot's been going on, for both of us I'm sure."

"Yeah, the lab-" Nick cuts himself off, because although he wants to just forget what happened six years ago, he knows it won't happen. He feels guilty for taking Grissom's job, taking his life from him, and he knows if he had a chance, he'd give it all back. He's not made for it like Gil was, he misses life outside the lab, misses his friends that have distanced themselves after what happened.

"I'm sorry, about everything that happened. Your job-"

"I made my own decisions Nick, just like Greg made his and you made yours. If you do your job feeling guilty about how you got it, you can't be as effective in it as you should be."

Nick doesn't respond, instead turning his gaze away from the older man, and the two become locked in a silence for several moments. He's not even sure what to say anymore, to Grissom, to his coworkers, in all honesty he wouldn't even know what to say to Greg if he were alive right now, standing in front of him, so he stays silent. He lets his gaze take in the polished black wood covered in a display of white roses, the area around the arrangement sprinkled with the red roses laid down by the mourners.

It feels like six years after this all went down, all the chaos that derailed the lives of the three CSI's, that there's finally an ending. It's not a happily ever after, it doesn't end on a good note, it ends with death and the never ending pain of guilt and regret. Nick knows that tomorrow he'll go back to work, back to the glares and whispers, and Grissom will disappear again. He'll continue to help the victims and their families find closure, while at the same time looking for his own, knowing that with Greg now gone, he may never find it.

Gil would like to say something to ease the younger man's guilt, but he has no words, finally pulling his gaze from the casket to look at Nick, to see the silent tears trailing down the CSI's face. It's obvious that Nick doesn't even know he's crying, the CSI so deep in thought he seems to have zoned out, and the former supervisor decides it would just be best to depart now, not saying anything as he turns away.

The movement snaps Nick out of his thoughts, and he turns just as Grissom walks away, calling out to the older man until the former CSI reluctantly stops and turns back, looking at Nick with questioning eyes, slightly thrown off when Nick asks "You paid for it didn't you?".

"Pardon me?"

"The funeral, Doc said it was a private donor."

Grissom doesn't have to answer, it's obvious by the look on his face, and Nick knows. They have a common bond, there's a reason why they're the last ones here, "I'm not the only one who feels guilty about Greg".