CSI: Ghost: Chapter 17

A/N: Well, this is it folks, the final chapter of Ghost is here! I must apologize for any errors that got left behind in this chapter due to me being sick most of the week. But the week is almost over and I didn't want you to have to wait any longer, and I think most of it, if not all of it, is in good shape. So, sit back, enjoy, and don't forget to review!

Greg drove back to the apartment he'd had as Geoff Baker and locked the Dodge Viper in it's parking space. He then walked the three blocks to his silver Jetta and drove out to Lake Mead. Finding a good place where no one would see him he opened the driver's side door and left it open.

He pulled the car keys from the ignition and dropped them onto the floor before snapping on a pair of latex gloves from his field kit. Being extremely careful with the evidence he'd collected from Tony's mansion, he brought out an evidence bag filled with hair, pulled out by the roots, from the last guard he'd killed on his way out. He placed the hair on the front seat as well as a strand on the floor, near the key. He moved to the passenger side and placed another on the head rest. Next, he brought out the knife he'd used to kill Tony and Slick. The guard he'd found after everyone else was dead had proved useful for sure. Not only did he give up his hair willingly, he'd also consented to having his blood drawn, and then he'd let Greg thrust the handle of the knife into his hand for the few moments before he'd died. Greg looked at the knife and changed his mind for a moment, setting it, in it's evidence bag, on the roof of the Jetta.

He retrieved another bag carefully sealed shut. Inside, was a lot less than a pint of blood, but just enough to do what he needed to do. If he'd had the proper tools to draw blood he wouldn't have had to worry about losing any of it, or collecting it in the first place, but he didn't. He had to work with what he had. But it didn't matter anyway. He knew what he was doing. He tipped the bag up and let drops of the guard's blood fall in just the right blood spatter for a physical fight between two people.

Yanking his own hair out by the roots he dropped it on the ground. Greg finally took down the knife and brought it out of it's bag, careful not to smudge any fingerprints on the handle. He looked down at the weapon and gulped, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. This was it. The final moment before Greg Sanders died for the second time in his life.

"I love you, Nick," he whispered to himself before slicing open his left arm.

Blood flowed, falling to the ground along with the knife, clean of his own prints and now full of the guard's. Greg moved in the dirt, scuffing up the dirt to show a fight had occurred, letting his blood fall where it would. He took his right hand, managing to pull off the glove and covered it in his own blood before smearing it all over the driver's side window, careful to get at least a few solid prints on the glass. He gripped the steering wheel as if someone was pulling him out of the car and he didn't want to go. Blood soaked the seat and dripped onto the floor. It was enough to look fatal, and every moment he regretted having to do this to his friends and family. But he knew there was no other choice.

Grabbing the first aid kit from the front passenger seat he headed for the lake and began to scrub the blood off. Once the slice in his arm was clean he bandaged it up and put all of the garbage in a plastic bag. He made himself look presentable before heading back out to the road where he waited for the cab he'd called to meet him after he'd talked to Warrick.

Nick rushed into the house, panicking like he'd never panicked before, his breathing coming in short, hurried gasps. His eyes were wide, as he searched the house frantically for his husband before he found the two cell phones on the kitchen table holding up the note. They were both blinking, one saying Greg had missed a call and the other saying he had a voice mail waiting for him as well as a missed call. His shoulders dropped and he felt his whole body sagging with heavy emotions. Greg hadn't gotten his phone calls or his message. In front of the phones sat Greg's house key, and Nick knew everything had been set there on purpose. He hadn't forgotten to take anything with him. Fear rose within his now trembling frame. Fear for whatever it was that had pulled Greg away from him, because he knew, without a doubt, that his husband was gone and wouldn't be coming back.

He stood there, staring at the scene in front of him for the longest time before he slowly reached out and took the piece of paper held between the phones. Involuntarily, he moved to the couch in the livingroom and slumped down in it. He flipped the paper open and his eyes read the opening line:

My Dearest Nicky,...

His heart caught in his throat and he felt tears pricking at his eyes. Not having let go of his husband's wedding band since he'd first found it, he squeezed it hard, his knuckles turning white, as if it could bring Greg back to him, and thus, mend his already shattered heart.

In the Viper once more, Greg felt himself drawn to the house he'd shared with Nick one last time. He told himself he would just drive by. He wasn't going to stop. He was just going to drive by. But what he saw when he looked toward the once happy home, as he slowed down, broke his heart yet again. Through the livingroom window he could see Nick sitting on the couch, curled up into a ball, his knees brought up to his chest. He was rocking back and forth, and his body appeared to be shaking the way the piece of paper he was holding trembled in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Nicky. I just wanted a normal life. I didn't want to hurt you in the process. I didn't mean to," Greg whispered to no one, as a single tear fell from his eye and ran down his cheek.

Not stopping to think, he put his foot down on the gas peddle and raced down the street. Greg Sanders was finally free. He had no contracts with anyone. Tony Biggs hadn't sold him to someone else before he was brutally murdered. But Greg Sanders was also dead. For the second time in his life. He'd left behind everything that would remind himself of his last two lives. Now, the only thing he had left to do was sell the Viper, find a new car, something nondescript, and head out of town.

The one thing he wanted in his entire life, he knew he couldn't have anymore. He was a murderer, an assassin, and the last thing he wanted was Nick having to see him sent to prison for his work. He knew it would kill Nick to see his husband sent to court and found guilty for crimes he'd never known Greg was committing. He didn't want Nick to have to go to prison just to see him. He didn't want Nick to be ashamed of him. And he knew it would ruin his husband's career. It was better this way. Better, driving east toward a new life, no matter how much it hurt him.

Pushing the peddle further, he sped out of the city and out of Nick's life.

Ray Washburne sped down the road, anxious to get out of town. He was glad he'd gotten this red Dodge Viper. It made it easier to speed away from his past, from the things he didn't want to remember. But he'd have to junk the car soon. The guy who'd sold the sweet ride cheap looked and acted like he could have had both the law and criminals on his tail, which was sad, considering the car could have helped him forget. No, that was wrong. He didn't want to forget his sweet, kind, caring, and loving husband. He'd been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Just thinking about the car accident and the teenager stupid enough to drive drunk made his eyes well up with tears and he remembered the last time they'd made love together. He'd cried then too. He'd loved his husband so much. He still did. He always would. And he knew his husband would always love him also. Now, he was moving east, trying to get rid of the grief he felt. He'd get a job, perhaps start up a junk shop. Something to keep him busy. He had so much money, inherited from his family, he hardly had to worry about a thing. And he'd have what he always wanted: a simple life and a husband who would always love him, no matter what. Who could ask for more?

My Dearest Nicky,

Saying goodbye is painful. I know you don't want this. Please know I don't want it either. But it's for the best. By now you know the truth. I did my best to keep everything apart, but things got mixed up when Tony Biggs added you to his hit list because you've been solving all of his crimes. Even though you couldn't prove specifically that it was him, just know that it was. And know that you're safe now.

I paid off all the loans for the house, so you can keep it when I'm gone. I know you wouldn't accept it if I handed you the money in person. I deposited enough into our joint account that you should be more than fine if an emergency comes up. Please don't ask where it came from. I just need to know that you'll be ok, at least financially, without me.

I know you questioned many things about me towards the end and you probably still are now, as you read this. But know that you always knew the real me. I showed you the person I have always longed to be before I met you, and I am forever thankful that I got the chance to live out my dreams with you, even if it was for a short time.

You probably hate me for deceiving you, but you've got to know I didn't have a choice in my first career. I only chose to become a CSI so that I could actually do some good in the world, so I could actually have a somewhat normal life, holding a steady job, and marrying the one man I truly love. I tried so hard to block out the rest of my life when we were together because I didn't want it to ruin what we had. That's why I was so upset when Mom called me at work.

I know my apologizes will never be enough to ease your pain, but I am truly sorry for everything I've put you though. As horrible as it may sound for me to say this, I can only hope you have a good long life with the rest of your friends and family and that I haven't done too much of the damage I fear I have.

I wish I didn't have to say this but you also need to know that I don't exist anymore. Greg Sanders died in a tragic accident out at Lake Mead. I wish I could give you the little box of ashes you deserve as my husband, but I can't. Things might have changed, but I'm still the same person you knew and loved, and that will never change. No matter what happened in the past with us, or whatever happens in the future, I have always loved you with everything I am and I always will. I wish I didn't have to move on without you. The thought alone is breaking my heart. But perhaps we'll meet again some day when we're both headed for the pearly gates. I would like that very, very much. Just promise me you'll keep my ring safe and you won't forget how much I love you.

I will always be with you in spirit, no matter where I am in the world. I will be laughing with you while your nieces and nephews throw water balloons at each other, and while you sleep, I'll be right there beside you, holding you close for comfort. When you walk down the street, my hand will be holding yours and I won't ever let go.

I love you,

Greg

The End

A/N:

There were two inspirations for Ray Washburne's name in this chapter: The first was Ray Vecchio from Due South. Well, both Rays actually, I did like them both. And the second was Wash from Firefly, using his full last name, he was yet another really great character.

Really, there was ten million different ways this story could have ended. Even with the ending it currently has, it could go on further, but when I stopped to think about each possibility, this seemed like the best, for both boys. If I continue this further, it could only lead to more heartache. I hope you enjoyed it and I hope you come back for more of my work in the future. Looking forward to reviews...

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