THE COMPETITION

Note: A few months back I read that Eric Szmanda was offered a role in CSINY, but William Petersen convinced him not to take it. Boy, am I glad ES stayed in Vegas! Anyway, thinking of 'what if?' led me to write this story.

NOTE: OMG! I published the wrong version of this chapter and I did not notice until yesterday (May 6)! So sorry.

Saturday

Greg took off his new running shoes and his new uniform too and carefully put them in his gym bag. He needed to hurry; he had to be in the lab in half an hour.

He relived the events of the day before, as he drove to work.

FRIDAY

On Friday, Greg drove to the airport as soon as his shift ended, and picked up Professor Vauchss and his people.

Greg was impressed by his future teammates; the three men and the two women in Vauchss' entourage looked more like professional athletes than scientists –just like professor Vauchss, in fact.

And they were just as ambitious, too. When Greg offered to take them on a tour of the city, they politely declined; instead, they asked him to take them to the desert area where the race was going to take place. They were obviously not affected by jet lag.

The professor, however, was more interested in checking out their lodgings. He had asked Greg to get him rooms at a hotel with gym facilities, and he obviously wanted to see for himself if everything was up to his standards.

Greg dropped the professor and the luggage at their hotel, and then he took the rest of the team to the desert.

Along the way, Greg tried to engage them in a conversation. He asked them questions about their work and their training, and he also volunteered bits of information about Las Vegas and the competition, but all he got from them were a few mumbled comments.

They were obviously NOT in a friendly mood, but Greg didn't take it personally. After all, they weren't even talking among themselves. In fact, those guys looked more like strangers thrown in together for the race than like colleagues working for a common goal.

Still, Greg couldn't help being his friendly self, and so he kept talking, and pointing at any site of interest that they passed by.

It wasn't until they were back at the hotel that the youngest technician, Marcia Cole, pulled him aside for a talk.

"You don't have to do this, Ok?" she said.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Try to be friendly," she answered. "We're not interested. I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you're Vauchss' golden pupil," she said, "The one he compares everyone to."

Greg smiled –he couldn't help it, he was flattered- until he realized that she wasn't smiling.

"Me and my coworkers, here..." she said, tilting her head in their direction, "We've worked hard to stay in his team," she said, "And now all of a sudden he tells us that you're in." She paused, and then she added reluctantly, "It's bad enough that he keeps comparing us to you," she said, "But now he's giving one of our places to you -"

Greg didn't know what to say.

"There's going to be a trial run tomorrow," she added, "We're going to compete with each other, and Dr. Vauchss is going to decide who's out," She looked at him, "So, as you can imagine, we're not feeling very friendly. We don't want to talk –not to each other, and certainly not to you. Get it?"

Greg nodded slowly.

"Sure," he said.

She turned to go back to her teammates, but something made her stop. She glanced at him over her shoulder, "I think you should run with us tomorrow," she said, "It's only fair, don't you think? To show us if you've got what it takes?"

She didn't wait for his answer.

Greg and Vauchss met for lunch later that day.

Poached fish and steamed vegetables weren't Greg's idea of a fun meal, but he didn't say so; Vauchss was buying, after all. And the old man meant well; he just wanted everybody to join him in his quest for a healthier lifestyle.

Greg tried to broach the subject of the competition as soon as they sat to eat, but the professor seemed more intent on talking about the past.

"Do you remember Spring break, 1997?" he asked at one point.

"Sure," Greg said, "That was the year you got me a job at the Smithsonian -"

Vauchss nodded.

"Best intern they every had," he said. "For years, they would call and ask me to send them another student, but I never did." he said, "Those new students I had-" he paused, and then he shook his head regretfully, "There was no brilliancy there, Sanders. The college authorities said I needed to lower my expectations, but I would not. I knew then, that it was time to quit teaching."

"I was sorry when I heard about it." Greg said, "But at least you were finally able to focus on your work as a DNA expert."

Vauchss only smiled modestly.

This seemed like a good time to talk about the present, and Greg did.

"You have a good team," he said. "How long have you worked together? At the lab, I mean."

"About two years," Vauchss said. "Peterson and Atkins are my newest additions."

This had surprised Greg, who thought most people stayed at a lab for years, like Catherine and Grissom did. But then, maybe Vauchss simply liked having young people around.

"They seem very focused on the competition-" Greg started.

"They are." Vauchss nodded.

"In fact," Greg continued, "I don't think I could outrun them, sir. I might be able to hold my own, but -"

"I know you won't disappoint me," Vauchss said warmly.

"Yeah, but..." Greg hesitated, "What if?" he said, "I mean, I wouldn't like to take the place of someone who can do a better job than me, sir. That wouldn't be fair to your team. They want to win this competition as much as you do."

Vauchss put down his fork and then he leant forward.

"Sanders," he said solemnly, "There are things in life that are moreimportant than a trophy or a race. There's loyalty, for instance."

"They seem loyal -"

But Vauchss didn't let him finish.

"Then we'll see how far their loyalty takes them, then." he said, in a tone that implied that there was nothing else to discuss. "And if you're worried about their feelings, then don't be. My people know that everything I do is for the good of the team, Sanders. My people trust my judgment." He added. "Do you?"

Greg was taken aback by the professor's hardened tone.

"I do," he said quickly, "I just -" He paused, not sure how to explain.

"You will do a good job on Sunday, Sanders." Vauchss said then, "That's all that matters."

And Greg finally understood thatVauchss didn't want to discuss the matter anymore. But that was ok; there were other things they could talk about –like his work as a CSI. He had been waiting for a chance to tell his old professor all about it.

"It's different, being out there," Greg said at one point, "Now I get to talk to people-"

"Sanders," Vauchss interrupted, "I know you want to tell me all about your new job. I was going to broach the subject myself, after the competition. However, since you've brought up the matter yourself..." he put his fork down and then he fixed a stern look on Greg, "All I can say is that I am very disappointed by your decision to become a CSI."

Greg was taken aback.

"Well," he said, "Sir, I thought-"

"You were brilliant, Sanders," Vauchss interrupted, "A genius. The youngest, brightest student I ever had. Back then, everyone envisioned a great future for you –a future as a scientist. But you exchanged all that for a chance to pack a gun and pick up blood samples from cadavers-"

"We don't just pick up samples -" Greg started but Vauchss wasn't finished.

"Do you know how many years of schooling a CSI needs?" Vauchss asked, his words dripping despise. "Do you remember how many years you spent in college to get your degree?"

Vauchss didn't give Greg a chance to reply, "This is not what you worked so hard for." He continued, "You didn't spend all those years studying and making sacrifices so you could end up tagging along the police."

"I'm still a scientist-" Greg said, but Vauchss ignored the interruption.

"But I don't blame you," he said, softening his tone, "I blame myself." He added. "I knew that Las Vegas wasn't the right city for you, but I said nothing. You wanted to be close to your parents -"

Greg glanced away. He didn't want to talk aboutthe elusive Mr. And Mrs. Sanders, who had been absent during most of his life. He had hoped that moving to Las Vegas would improve their relationshipbutthings hadn't worked that way. Only the presence of his grandparents had somehow eased his disappointment.

"How are they, by the way?" Vauchss asked.

"They live in Palm Beach, now." Greg muttered.

Vauchss nodded, as if the news didn't surprise him. He looked down at his half-empty plate. Idly, he picked up the last piece of herbed fish but after a moment, he put the fork down. He took a deep beath.

"Sanders." He said solemnly, "I'm sorry if what I said hurt you, but I believe I have a right to speak. I know you. I know your potential. Your place isn't out there, mingling with criminals who lie and get away with it. Your place is back at a lab, where the evidence is all that matters."

Greg looked down.

"Sir, with all due respect..." he said, "I don't think I could go back to that little lab in the basement again."

"I quite agree," Vauchss said quickly. "You shouldn't have to work in a basement -no scientist should. In fact," He added, "My lab isn't in the basement." he said grandly, "My lab is on top of a building. I don't make requests for equipment and then sit back for a year waiting for someone to approve the acquisition; equipment is offered to me."

Vauchss seemed very pleased with himself as he added, "You see, things are different in Washington." And he looked expectantly at Greg, who didn't know what to say but managed to be polite.

"Good for you, sir," he said.

"FBI trainees come to my lab for their specialization –did you know that?" Vauchss continued, "And when people who worked for me leave, it is to head their own labs. They moved on to better things because they remained true to their calling." He said pointedly. "You... You could have had a brilliant future, Sanders."

Greg opened his mouth to say that he had a brilliant future as a CSI, but refrained at the last minute. He didn't think the professor would appreciate hearing that.

"Sanders," Vauchss saidandthen he paused until he was sure that he had Greg's full attention, "My lab is arguably the biggest in America. Would you like to work there?" heasked.

Greg's eyes widened.

Vauchss sat back, enjoying the effect that his words had on Greg. There was an expression of incredulity on the young man's face, and he was momentarily speechless.

"Well? How would you like to work for me?"

Greg recovered at last.

"Wow, sir." he said, "This is-" he hesitated, "This is huge," he admitted, "I don't know what to say-"

"I know," Vauchss smiled benevolently, "It's a big decision."

"Yeah," Greg agreed, "It is."

"I am not going to pressure you for an answer just yet, Sanders." Vauchss said kindly, "I don't even want to discuss it." He added, "Right now, there's a competition we need to focus on. We'll have plenty of time to discuss the matter afterwards."

But Vauchss didn't really leave the matter alone.

He talked about Washington, and then he talked about his wife and how much she'd love to see Greg again. Then he talked about the lab, and how many of his technicians had moved on to plum jobs in Quantico... And those were magical words to Greg, whose secret fantasy had always been to work for the FBI. He didn't know why; it just sounded glamorous -the stuff of childhood fantasies.

But Vauchss managed to top even that, when he hinted that his intention was to take Greg back to Washington as his second in command.

"But you don't have to decide now," Vauchss said as they walked to the parking lot, "Just put it out of your mind," he added helpfully, "Don't think of it until after the race."

But Greg couldn't think of anything else as he drove back home. The truth was,he liked the idea of working for his old professor. He liked the idea of repaying all those favors, small and big, that Vauchss had done for him over the years. And living in Washington was kind of appealing, too.

But he liked living in Las Vegas, too;he liked his job.He liked being a CSI. Of course,he was still new at it, and hehad a long way to go...He was abeginner, in short.

Whereas with Vauchss, he'd be doing what he was an expert in.

Greg shook his head. He didn't know what to think, or do He definitely needed some advice, preferably from someone who could take an unbiased look at his situation. Someone who could help put things in perspective. Greg thought of friends and acquaintances, but in the end he realized that the only person who fit this description was his own boss, Gil Grissom.

With this thought in mind, Greg drove to the lab. With a little luck, he might find his boss there.

Grissom was in his office, but fate decreed that every time Greg tried to broach the subject, Grissom's phone would ring, or someone would come in and interrupt them.

When the phone rang for the fifth time, Greg realized that it was a lost cause.

"I'll talk to you later." Greg mouthed as he rose from his seat, but Grissom didn't even nod.

Greg wasn't surprised by his boss' lack of attention. It was his own fault, for telling Grissom that what he wanted to talk about was not case-related. That was definitely not the way to pique Grissom's interest.

It was ok, though.Greg knew they could talk later, when the night shift started.

But later that day,Greg began to question his decision to talk to Grissom. The more he thought of it, the more he realized that Grissom was perhaps the last person who could help him decide between two jobs. He almost knew what Grissom's response was going to be, anyway; probably the same response he'd got a few months before, when Mia –who had replaced Greg as a DNA technician- requested a transfer to Los Angeles.

Greg had begged Grissom to talk her out of leaving -to no avail. Grissom had simply explained that if any of his underlings were ever offered a better job, he would not stand in their way. And so, he did not lift a finger to stop Mia.

What if instead of helping him see things from a different perspective, Grissom simply told him to go ahead and take Vauchss' offer?

That was not what he wanted to hear.

That's why, that night, when Grissom motioned him into his office and said, "There was something you wanted to talk about today...?" Greg hadlied.

"Well," he hesitated, "It was about the race." He said slowly, "I was wonderingif you were doing ok with my replacement."

"I heard they're doing fine." Grissom said noncommittally.

Greg nodded.

"Good." He said.

They were silent for a moment.

"Is that all?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah." Greg nodded. "That's all. I…" he added, rising from his seat, "I've got something to do…"

And he left.

Saturday

And so, Greg didn't talk to Grissom about Vauchss' offer. In the end, he followed Vauchss' advice and simply focused on the race.

He'd just done a trialrun with Marcia and the others, and it had gone well. He was just as good as them, something that was very important for Greg's peace of mind.

Tomorrow, he'd give his best to help them win the competition. That was all that mattered for now.

TBC

Does Grissom have a clue of what's going on? We'll see onSaturday…