Chapter Four: Frustrations

Jim Brass was a relatively smart man; he was also a relatively calm man…most of the times. Right now was definitely one of those times. At the same time Nick couldn't help but agree with detective's ceaseless criticisms; the Texan knew that what he had done was wrong. The only satisfaction he had in it was that the rookie detective was going down with him.

Nick blamed Jaysen for everything, yet the only reason they weren't on immediate suspension was of what they had found. Their one and only suspect, the ex-boyfriend Michael Walters, bleeding to death on the floor of his very living room. Jaysen still claimed he had been in the right, and even now stood irately as Brass continued the tense lecture, the youth sighing from time to time.

Nick shook his head a little, tuning out the other man as his eyes caught sight of their suspect being wheeled out to the waiting aid car. It was remarkable, knowing that they alone had been at the scene for well over an hour now, and that their suspect turned victim was just getting the medical treatment required. He was their only lead as of now, if he wasn't able to talk the case would be at a standstill until evidence was processed.

It had been a hard decision on Nick's part, the Texan knowing that either way he would end up in trouble, and he had made it well known that it had been all in all the rookie's idea to venture inside. Jaysen had brushed it off lightly, stating that his actions had been justified; his belief was that Michael Walters would have been deceased if they had waited as instructed.

In front of him Brass came to a stop, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a moment to breathe calmly. It was the first time in nearly twenty minutes the detective had not been yelling. With a frustrated sigh the man turned back towards them, hands crossing his chest. "Both of you report back to the lab, and it is in the lab you'll stay until I figure out what I'm going to have to do."

"Lab work?" Jaysen huffed, raising an eye brow, "You mean guppy work?"

"Don't push it," Brass warned haughtily, turning sharply on his heel as he left.

Next to him Jaysen scowled, glaring at the Texan angrily. "This is all your fault, you know. Thanks to you I'm going to be stuck pushing paperwork for the rest of my life."

"My fault?" Nick asked incredulously, mouth hanging open. "How is it my fault? You're the one that went into the house without clearance!"

"You called the big boys in," Jaysen responded, thumbing over his shoulder to where Brass stood with several other officers talking quietly. "Neither of us would have gotten in trouble if you had just let me do my job."

"I followed procedure," Nick replied angrily, doing his best to keep his calm. He was now, more than ever, ready to tear this man limb from limb. Because of him he not only was removed from the case, but now placed on probation which required him to remain in the lab. And to add further insult, he continued to act as though this entire mess was the Texan's fault. It was more than infuriating, and it wasn't something he was going to take.

Greg pulled off his sunglasses as he ducked under the yellow tape, taking the time to tuck them in the pocket of his vest. The sun was nearly down already, and Greg found it hard to believe that he was just starting another scene. It would be another eight hours before he even thought about going home. It seemed as though the entire neighborhood was pressed around the house, Greg scanning the scene to pick out anyone from the school earlier that day. It would ring a clear bell if there was; some suspects preferred to stay behind and watch the scene unfold.

He nodded to the blonde as he entered the house, moving past the officers that patrolled just inside. Greg had just barely caught wind of what had transpired a few hours before with Nick and the new rookie, and despite the fact they more in likely would not be able to use any evidence found in court, it didn't excuse them from their job. There was two dead, and one severely injured, and at the moment no one was certain he would even make it. It was a bitter fate, but in the end nothing could be changed aside from the fact of placing the one responsible behind bars.

Catherine smiled at him weakly, setting her camera down on her case as he approached. She raised an eyebrow as she asked the pressing question. "Double?"

Greg nodded, letting out a small chuckle as he moved around her, surveying the bloody mess that had been left behind after their latest vic was transported out of the house. "Third straight night," he confirmed.

"Ever think about talking Grissom into giving you a break?"

Greg shook his head, although he knew he had tried already. It just wasn't a question of ability right now. He knew everyone else was working the same hours as he was, sometimes more. "I was the only one available," he stated.

"What about Sara?" Catherine wondered, now balancing on her heels as she knelt down to cut away bits of the blood-stained carpet. "I heard she wasn't busy."

"Grissom sent her home," Greg let out a soft smile, taking in that small comfort knowing she was on her way to get some rest. He knew full well how exhausted she was. "She's already worked a double, Griss wouldn't' let her do a triple in the same night."

"Ah," she nodded, a bit more humor in her voice then Greg had expected. "So, when are you two tying the knot?"

Greg had turned, forgetting momentarily what he was doing to stare at the blonde. "What?" She couldn't possibly know, he hadn't told anyone about it, not even his parents. He watched as Catherine raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in indication.

"I just figured with how close you two were getting," she shrugged. "It's been what, a couple of years now since you've been living together?"

He shrugged it off, suddenly feeling the need to not talk about it. "We're just...just trying to get through things right now. I mean, money's tight, even with both of our incomes we're still paying off a lot of medical stuff. Work only covers so much, and with everything that's happened...I guess we're just trying to have a normal life. It's just never come up."

"Have you thought about it?"

Greg shifted uncomfortably, taking the moment to consider it. For so long he had wanted someone to talk to about it, but he never had dreamed about telling Catherine. He was too afraid that she would slip up, and tell someone else, and it would eventually work its way back to Sara. That was the last resort to how he wanted Sara to find out. After a brief moment he shook his head, muttering quietly under his breath before answering.

"Not really...at least not now."

She gave him a weak smile, moving to her feet as she bagged the fresh evidence. "Just give it some time. It'll work out, you'll see."

Greg gave her a smile, but sighed inside with relief, hoping she'd drop it all together. He wanted to be with her, wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, but he was too afraid to even ask…to afraid of being rejected. Greg gulped quietly, wishing the topic had never come up. Now he would never be able to concentrate on work.

He jumped as his cell buzzed, forgetting that he had set it to vibrate before placing it in his pocket. Ignoring Catherine's amused look he fished it out, accepting the call even before checking the caller ID.

"Greg?"

He smiled, simply happy to hear his girlfriend's voice on the other line. So much that he had missed the strained tone.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Did you lock our door this morning?"

He frowned, setting his flashlight down as he worked his case free with one hand. "I think I did. Why do you ask?"

"It was open when I got home."

Greg shook his head, doing his best to remember. He put aside his feeling for the moment, knowing that she was worried and beyond stressed. The last thing she needed was this. "I…I swear that I did…you mean unlocked, or actually standing open?"

"The door was standing completely open," she breathed, "not even close to being closed."

"Robbed?" Greg wondered, "Is there anything missing?"

"No…not that I can see anyways. It doesn't look like it was a forced entry, so I thought the windows maybe…"

"Sara, we're on the third floor. Besides our window's jammed, it doesn't open, remember?"

"I know," she groaned, "I know. I just…I want to know what's going on. The fact that someone could have been in here…and this dump doesn't have security cameras on the higher floors, just the bottom level."

"We don't know if someone was in there," Greg told her patiently. "I guess I didn't latch the door good enough. You know how things are; the door needs an extra pull sometimes."

He heard her sigh, which was a good sign, it meant she was giving in.

"I guess you're right…I'm sorry, I'm just…I'm exhausted. You're still working, and I don't need to bother you with this right now. I just have an overactive imagination."

"It's not," Greg reassured her, "If you're worried we'll file a report, talk to Brass. Let him know to keep a heads up."

"No…no, nothing's missing, and I don't think…I don't think anyone's been in here, the place isn't a mess…well, no more than it usually is. I think we're okay, I'm just being paranoid."

Greg sighed inwardly, wanting to say something, or do something. He wondered if he should just go ahead and call Brass himself, or perhaps just talk to the man later on about it, but decided that it wouldn't be for the best. The man would want to investigate, and that meant he and Sara would have to find somewhere else to live while others pawed through their personal lives. He was having a hard enough time keeping things private as it was now, he didn't need to openly invite others in.

Besides, Sara wasn't too concerned, she herself not wanting to get authorities involved, so why then, would he? They lived in a relatively good neighborhood despite the name of Sin City being around them. Greg had lived most of his past years there, having no qualms even up till now.

Their call ended there, Greg saying his short goodbyes as he avoided Catherine's curious gaze. He knew she would want to know, and at the same time demand that the two of them talked to someone, and he ran a list of possible things to tell her when she did ask, but in the end came up with nothing. Instead he let out a sigh, briefly explaining things as he put his phone away, insisting that it was a mere accident of a faulty door.

He could tell Catherine was not impressed, but he wasn't too concerned. Impressing Catherine wasn't on his list of things to do, especially tonight. He wanted to finish the scene, log the evidence in, and head home. He could worry about playing favorites later.

TBC