A/N: Don't own nothing that earns more than $20 an hour. You know what I'm talking about.

Oka, this chapter, is a bit more boring, but next chapter I promise you will be better;) More drama, and action, and all that stuff you love in a fic! Enjoy! Oh...and I love everyone who has read and/or reviewed! You guys are awesome, and it givs me a great felling to see you all like it! It is my pleasure to write more for your entertainment!:D

CHAPTER 2: HOW COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED?

Bump.

Greg opened his eyes slightly, so that a sliver of dim light shone through to his pupils. That was too much, and he closed them again.

His head was splitting, and he ached all over. His stomach was flipping over like a gymnast. Was this what death felt like?

Bump.

Greg groaned as he knocked his head against the ceiling of his current enclosure. Nope. He still felt stuff. He was definitely alive, but certainly not well. He forced his eyes to look into the surroundings, although they did not have far to span. All he saw was muted light coming from the seams of wherever he was, and a hole to his left near the seam. He was still too affected by whatever drug was in his system to realize he was in the trunk of a moving vehicle, driving further away from anybody that could help him.

He did realize the need to leave the small cramped space, so he tried to shift his position. Only he couldn't. Even if he was drugged, he realized the fact that he was held fast with duct tape and that he was captured. He was in serious trouble. Greg tried to struggle, but his body protested in every movement, and his eyes soon started to water with the effort. He took a few calming breaths and lying back once again he tried to concentrate.

But that was easier said than done when you felt like you came home from a really rough night at the local bar.

He shut his eyes forcefully, trying to figure out what was happening. "I was working my first solo…" His mind could only remember that far. His date! He had a date with Sara. She had finally taken him up on his offer because he was on his first solo case. But why was he here now?

Bump.

The car hit another pothole and Greg felt himself being forced into the back of the trunk. He did really not like how things were looking. He would have screamed if either he had thought of it or it would do any good, but neither scenario occurred. Instead, Greg did the only thing he could have done. He took his legs, also bound together, and started to kick into the ceiling of his confinement. His strength was flagging, but he still managed to put in a few good dents, but a lot of good that did him. He was still stuck in this offending metal box.

Screech.

Greg was sent hurtling headfirst into the other side of the car's trunk as it skidded to a halt, his forehead connecting with metal. It was enough to send the semi-conscious Greg into full-out darkness once again. He did not notice where they were, nor did he see the two people opening the trunk, and lift him roughly from it, and neither was he prepared for what was about to happen.

It was not even twenty minutes after Greg had made his call to Brass when he arrived at the old gas station off the I-15. Jim Brass, a stout police detective, studied his surroundings, the fear inside him already at a maximum. He was afraid for what had happened to the young CSI, because he was nowhere in sight.

The events taking place there weren't helping him at all either. In the parking lot, Greg's vehicle was a skeleton and charred remains. Someone had torched it, and the store was still being licked with flame and purple smoke as firefighters fought it. The damage from smoke, fire and water would make it near impossible to find anything probative, but they had to think positive. Brass was now waiting for someone from the Crime Lab to check out the scene.

Something was not right at all here.

"We can't find a trace of him anywhere, Jim." Sofia Curtis came up next to him, her blonde hair a mess from the wind. She had the same expression of worry and fear plastered across her face as Brass imagined he had on his. "We did find two bodies though, and a trail of blood leading from the back of the store to a small hole. One was identified as Officer Rawst, the other I assume is the actual storekeeper. What are we going to tell Grissom and the team?"

Brass sighed heavily. "When they get here, we tell them that their youngest CSI has been possibly kidnapped, and that he's missing."

Sofia nodded solemnly. "I hope they can do something." Silently she added, for her ears only, "How could it happen to Greg?"

"Yeah." Agreed Brass. "Me too." Yet Brass had overheard her last comment and agreed with it also. He looked at the skid marks in the parking lot of the station and could only assume the worst. He wished that time would go faster.

But time never heeds the wishes of mere mortals, and another fifteen minutes passed before the familiar Crime Lab vehicle came hurtling over the I-15, and turned into the lot. Brass watched as Nick and Warrick hopped out, oblivious to what they were about to hear.

"Brass." Warrick called out, walking over to his colleague. He gestured to the flames. "What's this about? This wasn't an arson case."

"Yeah, and…wait!" Nick said, joining them but recognizing the station. "Wait…off the I-15…wasn't this Greg's case?" Nick asked, and then he saw the scent dogs. Brass' expression only confirmed his slowly forming theory. "What happened to Greg?" Nick said, his voice shaking.

"This was Greg's case?" Warrick asked, looking about at the scene also. "And isn't that Greg's car?"

"Guys…" Brass started slowly, trying to compose himself, "Greg's missing." The looks Nick and Warrick gave him at that moment made him want to run and hide away. "He called me only an hour ago, and said that something wasn't right. The police officer I sent to check the scene over is dead, and someone posed as him and…and I think he was kidnapped."

Nick remained silent, his emotions betraying him as his eyes watered. Warrick, however, knew he had to remain relatively staid. "Where do we start?" Nick looked at his friend, and gave a nod, blinking his tears away.

"Okay." Brass said, switching to Captain mode, "The bodies of Officer Rawst and who we assume is the storekeeper are out back, Sofia will brief you. I'm going to make the necessary calls. Everyone I can get is going to work this case. We'll find him." He added softly.

Warrick and Nick nodded, and started to walk to the back of the store. They were scared, and they didn't even try to hide it. But they knew what they had to do.

They had to try and get their friend back, they best way they knew how. Forensics.

"C'mon, 'Rick." Nick said, his Texan drawl more apparent in his voice with the added fear. "I see Sofia."

"And I see bloody prints." Warrick said, looking at the paved lot underneath him. "I'll handle these, you go to Sofia."

"Got it." Nick said, now taking off at a jogging pace to Sofia. Warrick sighed and sat himself down. "Greg, you better be okay," He thought to himself, as if Greg could hear him. He opened his kit, and started working on the bloody shoe impressions with a purpose. He was working the prints that normally took painstakingly long to do in only a few minutes. "How could this have happened?"

And it was these exact thoughts that the whole graveyard shift was having as they slowly got the news. Grissom, who was left to finish up the body dump case when Warrick got called, received the news as soon as Warrick and Nick arrived on the scene. And he, in turn, alerted Catherine, who was just returning from a false alarm of a B&E in Summerlin. The two drove to the scene as fast as they could to help.

The only one left to know on the team was to alert Sara, but no one could reach her.

And then. Then was the worst part. Brass grimaced as he started dialling the number, his hands shaking as he struggled to keep from hanging up. "Hello. Sanders residence." A voice on the other line said, he voice having a slight accent.

Brass let out a sigh. "Hello, Mrs. Sanders? I have some bad news about your son…"

The sun was setting. Too much time was passing. Grissom looked up at the setting Nevada sun, and he clenched his fists. They were going too slow, time too fast. He looked around at his team as they finished up on their evidence collection. Nick was finishing up with the bodies that were half covered in the exposed sand. Warrick, after collecting the show impressions, had gone in with Catherine to se what they could salvage from the burning remains of the store. And Grissom? He was trying to piece it all together. What the heck happened? He glanced over the burnt remains of Greg's car, trying to find more off of it, but it was just too badly damaged. Not even a plastic credit card would be salvageable.

He turned to see his team slowly group around him. Warrick held Catherine as she silently sobbed, and Nick's deep brown eyes betrayed that he was very affected, and scared for his friend. Grissom sighed, and started to act the leader once more. "Okay guys, we have a big job here. One of our own is missing, and we need to find him as soon as we can. We need to move fast. Get back to the lab, and get the stuff you have processed. Get your results, and report back to me so that we can analyze it. Let's go."

And they left for the lab, with heavy hearts set in determination for finding their young CSI, protégé, and friend.

But not all were feeling this sadness. No, Sara Sidle was rainbows and butterflies when she came into the lab after collecting her evidence on a routine B&E at Henderson. It turned out that a neighbour's teenage son tried to get into the house to see the resident teenage girl. Adorable, in an, 'I-broke-the-law-and-a-window' kind of way. Sara found it all quite amusing that the guy would try and be the modern-day Romeo. Not many guys were as debonair anymore; except for the one she was meeting in a few minutes.

She opened her locker, and changed into some fresh clothes. She had to look as good as she could without making it seem she tried anything fancy. That was Sidle rule number one. Number two was to not let anyone melt her heart as easily as Hank or Grissom once had. "Well," She concluded as she imagined curly blonde hair and gorgeous brown eyes, "Failed that one."

In truth, she really liked Greg. I mean, really liked Greg. He was an enigma; indefinable. But any way you put it to Sara, he was very likable indeed, and she was definitely looking forward to her date.

But any and all happiness drained from her when Nick walked into the locker room, looking much, much older, more worried, and very unwell. He didn't even see her as he punched the locker in frustration, making his knuckles turn red.

"Nick?" Sara asked loudly, surprised to see her friend this way.

Nick turned to see her, and the colour ran from his face. "Oh, Sara…we've been trying to call you. Something's happened."

Her blood froze, and her stomach ran away. Her face also went very pale all of a sudden. "Nick." She stated much more calmer then she felt at the moment, "What's wrong?"

But all Nick managed to say was Greg's name before Sara's knees buckled underneath her and she plummeted into Nick's arms. Nick helped steady her as she regained the use of her body. When they both stood, Sara was still visibly shaking, but her eyes let loose no tears. The implications of what Nick had just told her were too great for that. They called for action.

Nick felt Sara take his hands for support and she looked at him, fierceness in her eye like Nick hadn't seen before. "Just tell me what I need to do."