Chapter Five: Time and Time Again

He had left early to come here. It had been his first official day back at work, but he had only stayed a handful of hours. Work was fairly easy…he knew what he was doing there. For the first time since his...this life, Greg didn't feel out of place, almost.

Even still he couldn't concentrate. Sara had been worried when he had gone to her, asking for the extra hours off. After all, according to her, he was fine and dandy, especially after the way he had performed the previous night.

That, however, had nothing to do with his reasoning. Greg pulled off his sunglasses, setting them on his head as he surveyed the scene, taking the surroundings in carefully. He had been here…at the corner of Brighton and Jefferson Street. It was well off the strip, but not out of town. A relatively quiet neighborhood.

Crouching he ran a hand along the warm pavement, sighing in short frustration. Nothing…nothing at all. No tire treads, no shell casings…no blood. It still was vivid in his mind, clear as ever. This was the same exact spot he had been standing when it all happened. Being here, being this close made Greg believe that it hadn't been a dream.

He could still hear the gunshots echoing off the alleyways, the sharp pain in his abdomen. He winced, covering his lower stomach from the simple thought. There had been an explosion of pain; it had been the very thing that knocked him off his feet. It was here that he lay, gasping for his last breaths. How could he have imagined it all? Even more so, how could he have imagined another life, so vivid that he was now beginning to miss it?

The bitter taste only continued to grow in his mouth as he stood up, reaching for his phone that had already gone off several times. He took care in checking the caller ID, answering even though he had not wanted to. Greg wasn't in the mood to talk with anyone, least of all Sara. She had been in a fine mood last night, and most of the morning, but shortly after had grown bitter, more or less barking orders out at Greg, and taking no second thoughts on penalizing him when he did something wrong. One thing was for certain, he did not enjoy having Sara Sidle as his boss.

"Sanders."

He clutched the phone in his hand, frowning as she began to talk. It wasn't a direct order to come back into work, more of a plea. They were swamped, and she needed a break. That was a new one for him. Usually you had to pry her away from work, bribe her into taking some time off, or threaten her.

"I'll be in," he finally answered, hanging up before she could say another word. She seemed calmer now, a good sign for Greg at least. He ran a hand through his hair, surveying the empty streets before him one last time. There was the edgy feeling, something he couldn't quite place his finger on, something was out of place. Something aside from the fact his entire world had been shifted out of place.

With a resolute sigh he climbed back into his car, making a wide U-turn in order to head back to the crime lab. Glancing in his rear view mirror he could see the flashing lights, the hustle of people against the blacktop. He came to a stop, turning around to glance out the window, finding it bare and empty, much as before. One look at his mirror and the ambulance was now gone, the reflection as it should be of the emptiness he was leaving behind.

Greg gripped the steering wheel tightly, letting the car idle as he leaned his head forward, closing his eyes. "I am not crazy," he whispered through clenched teeth. "I am not crazy."

White walls, a sterile smell, a rocking, swaying motion, much like the feel of the ocean. Greg shook his head. He really was going crazy, imagining things like this. The fear was sudden, the shock unexplainable. He was going crazy, he was losing his mind. The one thing he valued quite dearly in his life. They would lock him away, watched by guards, and force-fed medication.

Who would visit him? Surely his friends at work would…wouldn't they? If not, then his family…

Greg opened his eyes for a brief moment. His family, his family would know. They would be able to tell him something, give him reassurance. His younger sister always listened to his problems when they were kids. What difference would it be now?

Hastily he pulled out his cell, dialing the familiar number. With a relieved breath he shifted in his seat, grateful to hear the ringing in the background. When the receiver was picked up, Greg nearly yelled in delight, but a second later his hopes were crushed as a man picked up.

"Hello?"

"I'm uh…is Amy there?" Greg asked nervously, reassuring himself that it could be a friend, or a neighbor that had answered. The pause in between told him otherwise.

"I think you have the wrong number."

"No," Greg shook his head, "Amy, her name is Amy Sanders, she's twenty-four, long brown hair, blue eyes…"

"I don't know any Amy sir," the man said, his attentiveness noted easily as the distress in Greg's voice began to rise.

"She's my baby sister, I have to find her," Greg pleaded quietly, closing his eyes as the tears threatened to flow. He couldn't do this anymore, he just couldn't.

"Is she missing?" the man asked, clearly concerned. "Is she lost? You should call the police son, they would be able to help you."

"I don't know," he sobbed quietly, pressing the back of his hand to his eyes as he began to cry. "I just need her, can you tell me where she is, please?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know," the man continued quietly, his voice calm, a sharp opposition to his state. "Why don't you tell me where you are, and I'll get someone to help you find her."

Greg only shook his head, ending the call without another word. He was appalled at his behavior, his weak constitution. The fear was real, and it was growing. He had just talked to his sister a few weeks ago; there was no way she could just vanish. Shakily he dialed his phone again, another number this time, howling in frustration as the operator informed him that the number did not exist.

How could it not? How could his parents not exist? It was not right, nor real…it just couldn't be. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, gritting his teeth as he lowered his head, trying, praying in vain to make some sense out of this jumbled mess.

A knock on the window startled him, and he jumped ever so slightly as he looked up, meeting the gaze of the police officer huddling over his car. He rolled his window down reluctantly, knowing that if he didn't, it would only cause more of a scene.

"Are you okay sir?"

There was a mask of concern, and curiosity on the officer's face, one that Greg studied for a moment before nodding, realizing only then that he had left his car idling this entire time. "Yeah."

His voice was bitter and dry, his throat tight after his sudden breakdown. He was feeling only slightly better, well enough to keep his raging emotions under control, but it wasn't enough to make the fear go away.

The sudden image of the mental hospitals encased his mind again as soon as the thought came up of telling the stranger what was going on. It wouldn't take long for anyone to assign him to the loony bin, and it was somewhere Greg did not want to go, even if he did belong there.

"I was just….calling someone for directions," he managed to say, the first lie popping into his head that made any sorts of sense. "It's a party, and I'm late."

"I can give you an escort," the officer offered, sincerity laced within his voice.

Greg gulped, the images of pulling up to the crime lab with a marked escort dancing, in his head. "I'm fine…really. I can find my way now…"

His voice had been shaky, and clearly unconvincing as the officer continued to stand there, his shadow draping across Greg's own form. The CSI drew in a shaky breath, pleading silently with himself to keep his cool. He couldn't afford to lose it now.

After what seemed like an eternity, the man pulled back, allowing Greg to take in his first real breath. The officer waved him on, already heading back to his own car, and Greg didn't wait for a second invitation as he sped off.

What he failed to notice was the officer reaching for the radio, reciting the license plate in his head as he made a call. He was too far gone, wanting the eerie feeling to disappear, speeding safely away to the last place he wanted to be.

The mood was perfect, the main lights off, the shades drawn, the door closed. Supple lips locked together as bodies pressed close, trapped against the wooden structure. Short breaths were taken in between as they broke apart, enough time taken to sit down on the desk that was digging into the back of her knees.

He brushed her hair back in long, slow strokes, holding her close for a second longer. She drank up his last kiss, savoring the sweet, tangy taste as she leaned her head back. "It's been too long."

Warrick smiled in silent agreement, running his fingers lightly up Catherine's arm, teasing the smooth flesh around her neck, and up along her jaw line. "Are you sure we can both get tomorrow off?"

"I've gotten someone to cover, and with the two new trainee's coming in, there shouldn't be any problems," she answered, capturing his hand as it brushed over her lips. She held it tight in her grasp, smiling.

From the doorway Greg let out a confused smile. It was wrong of him to eavesdrop on such a passionate moment, but if he hadn't seen it himself, he would have never believed the rumors. The ring, her finger, however, said it all. Besides, he had been informed to meet up with Catherine in her office, so technically, he wasn't eavesdropping, was he?

In the break that lasted just mere seconds, Greg took the opportunity to make himself known. The pair turned to look as he cleared his throat, knocking on the door. "Is this a bad time?"

"Depends," Catherine smiled, turning back to look at her fiancé. "How much did you see?"

"As little as you wanted me to?" Greg wondered quietly, hoping that the answer was the one she was looking for. Her playful laugh relieved the sudden tension he had felt earlier.

"Smart answer," she moved closer to Warrick then, whispering something in his ear. Something seductive, Greg guessed, by the way he moved back, a grin split across his face. He said his short goodbyes, brushing by Greg as the young CSI made his way into the office.

"Daytime supervisor," Greg read the plaque on her desk before glancing up at her, the woman readjusting her clothes as she moved to sit down in her chair. "You got the promotion you wanted."

"Years ago," she stated, frowning at the unusual comment. She had heard of Greg's episode through the grapevines, and studied his movements cautiously. When he was tired of being the experiment, he sat promptly in one of the other chairs that were offered.

"You will be able to cover the shift tomorrow, won't you?"

Greg blinked, taking her words twice over before answering. "Cover the shift? Your shift…as in supervise?"

"You're capable," Catherine told him, "You passed your tests, your exams, the crime lab was just short one supervisor position. I don't see any reason why you can't, do you?"

Greg only continued to stare blankly at her, trying to process her words. "I can't…"

She shot him a dark glare, short before inquiring to his reasons why.

"I don't know how…"

She laughed. Catherine was actually laughing at him. "You always have humor in you, don't you?" she was still laughing, a grin crossing her face as she began to fill out a form. "Steve and Chessie will be in tomorrow, they're new but they're doing a great job. We have an active case following a 419, stripper, well known at the Tropicana. Steve took a statement from her husband; Chessie is working on talking to her friends."

"You're really serious about this?" Greg asked dully, shaking his head at the same time. He couldn't supervise, he just couldn't. He was still learning himself. What was he supposed to do?

Catherine carried on as though he never had said a word, pressing the piece of paper in his hands. Greg could only stare at the written report, his eyes unable to focus on the writing even though he tried in vain to force them to.

He felt himself shaking, as another breakdown was threatening, illuming, ever growing. Greg shook his head, trying to calm himself down, he just couldn't lose it here, not now. What would everyone say, and even worse, what would they all do?

TBC