A/N – Hey everyone who has been waiting for this sequel (if I can be so bold to presume that the original warranted a sequel and that you have been eagerly anticipating the arrival of said sequel. Oh well, I wanted to write one anyway) and hello to any new readers out there. Thanks to everyone who read and (hopefully) enjoyed the first story and thank you for the lovely reviews! This story has been a while in the making mainly because I restarted it a couple of times and because I've been busy and stressed with university stuff.

Anyway enough rambling on from me. Enjoy!

Ps – Hope you all had a funky Xmas (or other alternative holiday)!

PPS - Usual fan fic disclaimers apply!

Out Of Context 2

© CSI Dork 2006.

Chapter One

My eyes snapped open, the brightness of the room stunning me slightly as I took in deep rasping breaths. I tasted salty tears as I pulled the blanket close to my face as if trying to hide my weakness despite the absence of people in the room. Drawing my knees closer to my chest, I laid still in a foetal like position for some time, trying to regulate my breathing and cease the harsh sobbing. Another dream. Another nightmare. Another day.

Waking up in the midst of slumber was a common occurrence these days. On the rare occasion where I managed to sleep right through without the 'return' visits to the crime scene that had ruined my life, I still awoke with the same pain in my heart.

That wasn't to say I didn't get up and go to work every single day. In fact, I was early for every shift, mainly due to my lack of sleep; consuming Pacific Ocean sized amounts of coffee and smiling as though my life had returned to normal. An assumption that I had successfully convinced the majority of my co-workers was true. Obviously there were the odd times when I would let down my guard and an eyebrow would be raised in my direction, questioning my authenticity as a man who had lost the most important person in his life, dusted himself off and got on with it.

The majority of the eyebrow raising came from Grissom, although there was no surprise there. He would probably find a reason to be suspicious of the most innocent person, if a person like that existed. 'I'm a CSI, it's my job to be suspicious' would be his defence and no more would be said on the matter. Aside from Grissom's constant attempts to uncover the truth both in the field and in my head, were Sara's suspicions. Granted, she had considerably more evidence to base her concerns on than Grissom given that she had been the one person I had felt comfortable enough to talk to in the beginning and had been the one person I had let my guard down with whilst I was on compassionate leave.

Nowadays, though, even she didn't get any answers out of me unless it was work related. There was something, as surprising as it seemed, that took my mind off the memories, the nightmares and the grief. It was as though being able to think logically and methodically and come up with the answer to a puzzle kept me focussed, stopped my mind wandering back to images of beaten bodies and irreconcilable regrets.

As my breathing slowed back down to a normal, human rate, I wiped my face with my hands as though it were a great effort. Forcing myself into a sitting position, I gazed out of the window of my apartment. Being on the first floor meant I could still see what went on outside on ground level. My bed was always positioned by the window. It was a rather strange but conscious decision I had once made. Either that or I was just nosy and border lining on Grissom-ness by looking out of my window and watching people go by.

Shaking away thoughts of what our children would have looked like as I saw a group playing basketball in the setting sun, I climbed out of bed and prepared myself for another day of pretending that I actually enjoyed being alive.

The hot beads of water that tumbled softly over my face and drummed on the floor of the shower woke me to a more stable state of consciousness so that I could now begin organising the practicalities of my day. What to wear, what to eat for breakfast, what excuses to give for the bags that had taken permanent residence below my eyes.

The engine hummed gently as I pulled the car into my parking space in the lot at the crime lab. I gazed ahead of me as I absently turned the key in the ignition and shut the engine off. Without its innocuous rumbling I was left in silence to watch the people go by as they headed off home at the end of a laborious day shift or wandered purposely into the building, refreshed and prepared for another day of crime fighting.

I should have been like them. I had slept, showered and eaten but I didn't feel prepared or invigorated. I felt drained; like I was the dredge of the orange juice that one can never get out of the bottom of the carton.

Archie walked absently by my car as he headed towards the building. The small white headphones I could see sticking out of his ears indicated to me that my technologically savvy co-worker was cut off from the world and unaware of my presence. As if to prove me wrong, he turned and waved giving me a broad friendly smile.

'Here goes nothing,' I muttered to myself as I climbed out of the vehicle and pulled on the mask of a refreshed and naively optimistic worker, heading for another shift of crime scenes, puzzles and purpose. Eighteen months on and I wasn't sure whom I was trying to fool – my colleagues or myself.

A/N – very short chapter there just to kind of set the scene and let you all know where the story is at with regards to the original story. Because it's so short I'm going to post chapter two right away but please feel free to review by individual chapters if you so wish.