Bit of a longer update here. This chapter has reference from 'Cold as Ice' so for those of you who haven't read that, you might want to go do that now. Although I would be slightly curious to why you're reading the fourth in a series if you have yet to read the second.

Thanks goes out to Jenny for her help and to Kegel for the beta.

Chapter Five: From the Past

He rubbed his eyes briefly before letting out a yawn, glancing from the screen towards the hallway to see if there was anyone around. As far as he knew, Catherine as well as Warrick had headed out; Nick, he assumed, was gone as well, which left only him and possibly Grissom from the night shift. Then again Grissom hardly counted; Greg doubted the man even had a home.

Greg rubbed his temples turning back to the screen. The surveillance footage from their primary crime scene had come in over three hours ago, and Greg had been doing nothing else since. Even though the footage failed to catch the front side of the building, focusing on school grounds and corridors more, Greg was adamant in finding a lead through the footage. After all, Michael Walters was still a prime suspect, even if he was found nearly dead in his own place.

It was a long shot, but still a possibility that Walters had murdered his girlfriend and her daughter, only to be caught in the sinful act and followed by someone else, who then proceeded to return the favor to him. Last Greg had heard, the man was still in surgery. They would be lucky to get a statement from him as well. Even still, if he was the culprit, it wasn't likely he'd pop up and out rightly admit to doing it. What Greg was hoping for, was to catching him on school grounds. If he was there at, or even around the estimated TOD, it would be firm building block for an accusation.

He yawned again, doing his best to stay concentrated on the task at hand. It wouldn't benefit anyone if he fell asleep right here and now. But he was exhausted, and possibly beyond that. The case had been bumped up to a higher priority as well, somehow information had leaked, the press gobbling it up in record time. The one thing Ecklie hated was the press. Not that they enjoyed it anymore either. It just made their work that much harder.

It was the only case Nights were working on, the Day shift taking two other 419's and one B&E to clear them out of the way. He knew the others were tired, they had already worked longer than him, and they deserved their time off, but still Greg envied them, wanting nothing more than his warm bed, and Sara, of course.

With the thought of Sara he sighed. He was worried about her, worried not only because of what she had found, but worried because he knew she would stress over it. She had been running off pure steam for the last few days now, and Greg knew she wouldn't last much longer. He knew the lack of sleep was getting to her. Often she was moody; sometimes it lasted a few mere minutes, and others, depending on how tired she was, lasted for hours and even once, several days.

It just wasn't her mood that was affected. Not only was she loosing weight, but just the previous week, she had come down with the flu. Greg had kept her in bed, despite her verbal protests, and had even stayed home in order to keep an eye on her. He knew it was a change for her; she hardly talked of her previous relationships, but it was obvious even then she stood on her own two feet. Perhaps that was the reason why she was so eager to overdo everything at work.

Greg sighed, wondering if he should let up some, and allow Sara to go at her own pace. Yet at other times, he feared he wasn't doing enough. He didn't want to lose her; he couldn't even begin to think of life without her. But it scared him, knowing that many of their trials started because of him. What would happen if Sara actually pinned all of that against him, and used that as an excuse to leave?

He shuddered, shaking his head as he sat up in the chair, watching the nameless faces walk through the corridors. Many of them were students, a few were teachers, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Everyone looked as though they belonged. This meant that they would soon be reviewing it again when they came up with a new lead.

"You're still here?"

Greg muttered something, more in likely promoting his stress as he rubbed his head as he glanced up at the Texan. "You're still here too," he pointed out gruffly, his words coming out harsher than he first intended.

"I actually went home," Nick argued with a smirk, coming to glance over his shoulder. "How long have you been reviewing this?"

"I lost track," Greg muttered dryly. "The system's not very advanced, nor is it all that clean. Equipment has to be cheap, I can't do much focusing, at least not better than this," he held up a hand, motioning towards the screen.

"Did you check times around the TOD?"

Greg nodded, gritting his teeth slightly. That alone was basic procedure…Nick knew that, so why exactly was he asking? Still he answered, "Nothing…quiet, most kids were in class, I have some footage of Cynthia, but none of her mother. And none of it's out of the ordinary."

Nick nodded, remaining quiet for several minutes as both the men watched the footage as it streamed by. Finally Nick broke the silence. "I'll take over, you go on and head home, get what rest you can."

"You're just as tired as I am," Greg argued, not quite willing to leave. He did want to go, by all means he did want to. Yet at the same time he wasn't willing to dump everything on someone's else's shoulders, especially someone he considered a friend.

"I slept Greg," Nick pointed out, "Besides, it's not like there's much else I can do."

"Yeah," Greg chuckled softly. "I heard about you and that new kid…Jaysen, right?"

Nick scowled softly with the remembrance, grimacing. "He's an idiot in training, thinks he knows everything and completely clueless that he knows nothing."

"I think I've heard that before," Greg commented, rubbing his eyes again.

"I'll bet you have," Nick laughed, talking over Greg's audible yawn. "Go on man, I have it."

The both of them glanced up when there was a knock on the open door, the young detective standing there in the doorway. She cleared her throat before she started speaking. "Greg?"

"That depends on who's asking," he responded, earning a short laugh from Nick who sat beside him.

"Carla," she nodded towards him, slipping inside. "Otherwise known as the messenger girl. PA's down at the moment, but someone's waiting for you in the lobby." She was next to him now, watching the footage as it continued to stream on.

"Any idea who?" Greg queried, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. He was disappointed to see her shake her head, partially because he never really felt like sticking around longer. Even more so, if it happened to be a reporter, he definitely didn't want to go, on the other hand, if it was someone important, pertaining to the lab or even the current case, he couldn't exactly just skip out.

"He really didn't give a name, just said he was an old friend," Carla explained shortly, shrugging her shoulders.

Nick nudged him on the shoulder, giving him a slight push towards the door. "Go on and see who it is; go home afterwards, get some rest."

With a sigh Greg willingly gave in, sliding out of his seat and stretching briefly as he stood, his muscles starting to cramp after sitting so long. Walking down the hallway he edged around the corner carefully, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of this 'supposed' friend. He could, hopefully, avoid them if necessary. He wasn't in the mood to face off another horde of questions.

It had taken him a long time to 'forget' all that had happened. In the end, he never really did, but it was enough for him to survive. Sara had helped out quite a bit. Greg was surprised that she had even come back to him, that she had wanted to stay. He could never describe the feelings that coursed through him as he held her close, listening to her breathe, and realize how close he had come to never hearing that again.

The last thing he wanted though, was to describe to some stranger about how he felt, and watch as it spread throughout the state. His life was no longer private, not by far; Greg wasn't a fool. He knew how the world worked, he knew the media was a predator, and at the moment, he was their prey. That alone was indicated by the amount of contact he obtained between them, on and off the cases he worked.

Still he smiled when seeing the old man, and slipped from around the corner, grinning as the other saw him. It had been a while since their last meeting, but that didn't mean Greg had forgotten. He stood there shyly at first, unsure of whether this greeting required a handshake, or if a simple hand gesture would do.

At first glance one would not notice the difference from anyone else, the man had adapted to his loss quite well in Greg's opinion. He supposed it wasn't much different from Robbins' situation, but then again it hadn't been too entirely long since Randolph had lost his leg.

With one hand on the supporting cane Randolph reached up with the other, breaking the momentary awkwardness by shaking his hand. Greg smiled and nodded in return, both grateful and curious to why the man was visiting. "It's been a while."

The old man nodded, smiling as he glanced around the lobby there. "Yes it has, amazing how time goes by so quickly, isn't it? And yet it almost feels like you and Sara were working away with Candi just yesterday."

Greg smiled at the comment, knowing that in the back of his mind it felt much as the same way. Still, it had been years since he and Sara had attended the seminar, and while there they had learned a great deal more than just basics forensics. Greg owed a great deal of respect to Randolph, for more than one reason. Even in the highest amount of doubt it was Randolph that had trusted him, and even played a part in saving his life, as well as Sara's. If anything, the two owed a sort of debt to him, even though Randolph wasn't the type of man who would accept such a thing.

"How is he?" Greg wondered quietly, knowing the last time he had heard of the youth's condition it hadn't been all that good. He could see the surprise and confusion etched on the old detective's face and Greg couldn't help but smile as he clarified himself. "Candi, how is he doing?"

Randolph chuckled at that, nodding down the hallway. "Why don't you ask him for yourself?"

Greg laughed as well, watching now as the young man followed several of the dayshift members down the hallway, his perpetual chatter echoing through the normally semi-quiet hall. "I thought you were retired, or going to at least."

"I am," he answered in return, "One bum leg and several years too many. No one wants an aging man such as myself, but I couldn't leave kid to his own defenses. Not until I find someone I trust. His mother's left town, headed across seas somewhere with her latest boyfriend and his father doesn't talk to him anymore, just sends money his way every so often to help with costs of everyday living. Not to mention I've grown kind of fond of him, kid kind of grows on you after a few years."

Greg smiled, nodding as well. He and Sara hadn't spent a lot of time with the clueless youth, but he had a certain edge that you couldn't just ignore. It was great to see that there seemed to be no lasting effects from the incident, Greg knowing full well the dangers and associated pain from second and third degree burns. He knew that even if there were no physical scars, emotional ones still hung deep.

"I highly doubt that you just stopped by to say hi," Greg commented quietly. "Denver's not exactly around the corner."

"Chicago now," Randolph admitted, "At the moment Candi and I are sort of touring. When I said I was retired I should have been a little more forward with you. I don't do detective work, but I still help at conventions, classes, speak at some colleges. It's not a dream job, and the money isn't great, most of it goes to travel, but it's better than sitting in a retirement home. Plus it gets the kid out, he's seen quite a bit for his age. Maybe he'll come across something he actually enjoys doing and can remember how to do it," he added with a small chuckle.

"But you're right, I didn't come out all this way just to say hi. I was hoping to catch both you and Sara."

"She's home," Greg nodded, wishing suddenly that he was as well. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the unexpected company, but he was tired, and his worry over Sara had yet to diminish. He knew he would feel better once he was at home, with Sara wrapped in his arms. "Maybe we could meet for breakfast tomorrow or something?"

He was slightly disappointed to see Randolph shake his head. He knew Sara would want a chance to talk with the man, but he wasn't wiling to call her now, afraid of waking her from her sleep. Greg knew she desperately needed it.

"Candi and I are expected in Florida by noon tomorrow. I just wanted to come by and warn you so that you two were caught up with everything. I'll trust you'll tell Sara?"

Greg nodded, his brow furrowing in confusion at the same time. "Warn us about what?"

"Tom's going to be released at the end of this week."

"You're kidding," Greg cursed lightly under his breath, shaking his head. "It's only been, what? A couple of years? They told us he'd be there at least five."

"According to doctors he's well in mental capabilities, at least well enough to where he doesn't need to be in the asylum. He'll still be required to see a therapist three times a week, and undergo a psychological examination monthly for the first six months to ensure he's doing okay."

"Do we need to get RO's or anything?" Greg asked quietly, wondering if he was being overly-paranoid, or if he was just being reasonable.

"I don't think you two will have any problems," Randolph admitted quietly. "You weren't personal targets in the first place, just wrong place wrong time. He doesn't have any real grudges to hold against you. I just felt you deserved to know, considering all that he's done to you and Sara."

"And you," Greg pointed out bitterly. Randolph had nearly lost his life due to the once-crazed CSI. Sure, the man had kidnapped Greg, but it was Randolph that had taken the most serious blow.

"I'll be fine," the old detective stated quietly. It left Greg frowning.

"You knew him a long time."

He nodded. "We were friends once, perhaps would still be if he hadn't gotten so jealous and blown a fuse. Tom and I go way back, we were friends before we started working at the conventions."

"Do you think he's crazy?"

"Anyone can turn crazy at anytime for any reason," Randolph stated. "Sometimes it's bottled up inside until it finds a leak. After that there's no stopping it. For others, it just takes a big dose of reality to realize how screwed up the world can be. It's easier, sometimes, to live crazy than struggle to stay sane."

"You don't actually believe that, do you?" Greg wondered, the sudden turn in the conversation catching him off guard.

Randolph shrugged, glancing down the hallway. "Look at Candi. The boy has no idea what's going on half the time, and yet he couldn't be happier. We sane people take life too seriously, and in the end we normally mess things up. I had plenty of years left in me, for field work, and I let my guard down because I assumed it was safe. I can't take that mistake back now. Can you honestly tell me there's nothing you've done that you've wished you could take back or change?"

Greg sighed, seeing his point then and there. He could think of a few things right off the start, but he wasn't willing to discuss them with the man. It wasn't a question of trust, but instead of time. Greg didn't have the world to explain his life story to Randolph, and somehow he doubted the detective would want to hear about it either. Instead he nodded as an answer, quietly thanking him.

Randolph smiled, clearing his throat as he shifted, leaning more on the cane than on his good leg. "Our flight leaves in four hours, we should probably be headed towards the airport. It takes twice as long to get through everything with Candi. He loves the airport, but hates flying."

"Odd combination," Greg chuckled quietly, reaching out to shake his hand as they said their goodbyes. Greg had offered to take them to the airport, not pressing when they turned it down. Honestly Greg wasn't sure if he could stay awake long enough to do so, and then return home afterwards. In fact, he was certain that if he didn't head out soon, he would have to take a taxi for fear of falling asleep on the way.

He smiled to himself, watching as the pair walked out of the lab. He knew that Sara and he had always talked about meeting up with the kind detective again, but talk of that had diminished shortly after Greg had lost his memory. And even when he gained it back, the past hardly came up. Greg knew it was because Sara was afraid, perhaps of hitting a chord or bringing up something he wouldn't be able to remember.

Greg would be the first to admit, he didn't remember everything. He couldn't…often he found himself at loss when she or someone else from the lab began talking about something. It wouldn't be until later, in the comfort of their own apartment, that Greg would ask Sara, and she would do her best to explain. Sometimes it would spark something, and others there was just nothing. Greg was grateful that he could remember this easily enough on his own.

TBC