Envisions

By: Emmithar

Rating: T

Summary: In an unforeseen incident Greg is left believing that he is dead. How then, could he explain where he was now, and why nothing was same as before?

Disclaimer: So, if I actually owned that characters, would I be writing a disclaimer? Didn't think so.

A/N: So this is a little different than my normal stories. Wait, what am I saying? It's a lot different then most of my stories. I suppose this would fit under the AU category. A lot of other characters will be out of character. And um yeah, if you get confused, don't feel bad. I'm expecting confusion. The story will make sense eventually…

Chapter One: Living Dead?

It was supposed to be simple. All he had to do was get an answer to one single question. He would be gone only a matter of fifteen, twenty minutes. He wouldn't even need to bring someone along either. Sara hadn't wanted him to go alone; she had said something about it being dangerous. Greg had laughed it off then.

He wouldn't be breaking procedure, considering the person he was meeting up with was neither a suspect nor a victim of their current case. There really wasn't a need for more than one person to go, and Sara had been busy. Greg didn't see the problem if he went alone. Now though…he was regretting it.

If it was supposed to be as simple as he thought, then why was he here now, spread across the ground as the car sped away, the dark crimson blood pooling beneath him? There was no doubt in his mind that he was dying, and with no one around to help him it would be his most certain fate.

Still there was something he could do…not necessarily to save himself, for even if he called for help he knew that it was too late. He would be long dead before anyone even showed up. The only thing he could offer was a lead…a chance for the crime lab to track down the individual that was responsible. At least that way they couldn't hurt anyone else.

With slow, yet determined movements he grasped his phone, flipping it open as he fumbled with the keys, texting the one small, final message as darkness claimed him.

It was the light that he first was aware of. A dizzying sensation came next, clouding his mind, but he didn't feel sick…not really anyways. He blinked; clearing his vision as the room slowly came into focus. He was in Grissom's office…or so he thought at first.

It was the same general location…but with different décor, very different…and Sara was walking around the desk towards him, talking continuously as she wrote on a piece of paper. What exactly was going on?

The last few moments were still vivid in his mind, and Greg subconsciously moved his hand down to his midsection where the bullets had hit him…to find nothing. No blood, no wounds…and no pain. Had he simply imagined it? Swallowing he nodded; of course he had…what other explanation could there be?

But it had felt so real…and why would he be dreaming at work? And still, that did not explain why he was in Grissom's office…why Sara was in Grissom's office…or why it was covered in plants, and forensic books, in place of the cockroaches and butterfly collections Grissom always proudly displayed.

Sara held the paper out to him, still talking as she did so. Greg only caught bits of what she was saying as he took the paper, reading it over with a frown. His eyes followed Sara as she moved back around, taking a seat in the other chair, Grissom's chair…

"You were lucky," she told him with a nod, crossing her arms on the desk. "Not only could you have lost the case for us, you could have been hurt in the process."

With a frown still he reread the slip of paper, before glancing up at her. "Are you…reprimanding me?"

Sara nodded with a sigh, turning away. "I know our standings with each other make it seem awkward, but if you were anyone else, the same would happen. Besides, the time off could do you well…"

"Suspension?" he questioned, rereading the paper once again. Sara did technically have the authority to lecture him, but to suspend him? That was an entirely different matter.

"You shouldn't be so upset," she warned him. "Two days are nothing compared to what I could give you. I already know the lab's going to be upset when they hear about it, so don't make it any worse than it already is."

"You can't do this," Greg countered, trying to reason everything in his head. "Besides…I don't even know what I did wrong."

"Cut the crap Greg," Sara's response surprised him, and he watched timidly now as she moved out of the chair. "You know that entering an unsecured crime scene can throw an entire case. Let's forget you went inside alone, without either calling or waiting for backup."

Greg shook his head. Was he hearing things right? He wondered briefly where Grissom had gone, and who exactly had pointed sergeant warpath as the leader in his place. It was then he noticed the name plate, wondering vaguely why he hadn't done so before. On the other hand, why would he, as it always read the same thing. Always…except for now. He handled it carefully, reading slowly to make sure that it actually said what he thought.

'Sara Sidle, Supervisor'

He could no longer hear her carefully worded speech, his only attention on the name plate before him. This wasn't right, none of it was. Sara wasn't the supervisor, Grissom was…and Greg knew he had never entered an unsecured crime scene before either. It was a joke…it had to be a joke, that was the only explanation possible.

"Where's Grissom?"

Sara stopped this time, falling quiet when she turned to him. "Grissom?" she asked, her voice skeptical.

"Yes," Greg nodded firmly, "You know, Grissom…our real supervisor."

"This isn't the time for jokes, Greg," she scolded him instead, her head shaking.

"Just answer the question," he stated, his voice quiet. If this was a joke, he wasn't finding it very amusing.

"He's gone Greg; he's been gone for the last four years."

He shook his head, swallowing. "That's impossible; I just talked to him this morning…"

"So tell me?" she asked coldly, anger evident in her eyes. "Since when do you communicate with the dead?"

"Dead?" he repeated her quietly, staring at the ground. But how could that be? Quick as ever he was on his feet, already out of the office, ignoring Sara's questions, her demands that he come back, to stop…to do anything other than what he wanted.

Grissom dead? Dead for years? It didn't make any sense…now he was more certain than ever that this was one sick and cruel joke. Someone must have slipped something into his coffee when he wasn't looking, and then while he hallucinated his own murder they had set up this prank. He just wanted to know when, and how…but mostly why. Grissom couldn't be dead; Greg could remember their exchange early this morning.

"How far are you and Sara on your 419?" Grissom moved around him to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee; Blue Hawaiian to be exact. Greg no longer tried to argue the fact that it was his expensive brand, he always lost in the end. He might as well save his breath.

"No new leads," Greg replied dismally, shuffling through the papers he had. Contact information, for the victim's clients. Their db turned out to be a natural healer, a doctor of sorts that preferred herbal medicine. Some held her in high opinions, others despised her. The list of possible suspects was long. Fifty-three to be exact.

"Cold case then?"

The lab was on budget, Ecklie's order. If a case was running longer than a week with no further leads, it was supposed to be marked, set aside until something showed up. If it ever did.

Greg shook his head quickly. "Sara's processing some new evidence, and Brass is working to get us a warrant to search…Crawfer's car. He was the last client to see our vic alive, about five minutes prior to her death according to the log."

"If he was gone by then, why are you assuming he has a connection?"

"Relevance," Greg replied calmly. "He was logged out five minutes prior to her death. But he did not show up at his place until an hour afterwards. His house was only a fifteen minutes away."

"He could have very well stopped somewhere," Grissom took the time to point out the obvious fact.

"Claims he went straight home. His story doesn't add up."

Grissom nodded, thoroughly impressed. "Run with what you have, and log it in when you're done. I'll be expecting an update before you leave the lab today…"

Before he left the lab…that would imply that Grissom would be around here somewhere...Greg ran his hands nervously through his hair as he came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Sara was not too far behind him, a look of worry rather than anger occupying her face. Funny…he expected humor; after all, this was a joke.

Warrick was in the adjacent room, hardly noticing his appearance. That was until Greg dodged into the room. The other man blinked, watching him with a mixture of surprise and confusion as Greg let out a quickened breath, asking the desperate question.

"Where's Grissom?" He wet his lips as he leaned against the table.

"Grissom?" It wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"I don't know what you guys are trying to pull," Greg muttered quietly, clenching his teeth. "Just give it up already, it's not funny anymore."

He turned as Sara paused in the doorway, calling his name softly. Her look matched Warrick's; a look of concern, worry…mixed with confusion.

"Greg…are you okay?"

Was he okay? Greg no longer knew, he felt sick inside, and his legs buckled, the only thing that kept him from falling was his grip on the table. What was going on? The only thing he was aware of anymore were the strong hands on his back, under his arms, holding him as he continued to collapse to the ground, fading into a state of darkness as the world spun around him.

TBC…

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