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Chapter Twelve: Reasons

"You have to admit it Grissom, all of this seems a bit funny."

"I actually don't find anything humorous about it."

Nick let out a sigh as he followed the man into his office. The Texan had spent the last several hours sorting through evidence collected at Greg and Sara's place, and the entire ordeal had gotten him thinking. Sadly, the more he thought about it, the less it made sense. He pulled the chair forward as Grissom sat down on the other side of the desk.

"You know what I mean. You said yourself that there's no such thing as a coincidence."

Grissom studied him for a moment before responding. "What does this have to do with Greg?"

"His case file goes missing and then his place is broken into," Nick pointed out. "All of his happened within a few hours of each other. I think someone's setting him up."

"For what exactly?"

Nick shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

"And the chance that Greg went to the media?"

"Non-existent in my mind. Greg hasn't spoken to the media willingly for a long time."

"It could be from a secondary source," Grissom suggested, trying to keep all the options open.

"Possibly," Nick agreed, "he could have said something that someone picked up and elaborated, but that doesn't explain how the files went missing."

"Archie has footage from the cameras of an unknown suspect leaving the room with a folder. There's nothing else we can get off of it; someone took them after Greg filed them, but we have no way of knowing who."

"But we know that it wasn't Greg."

"You and I know that, yes. But we don't have any solid proof, and without that…"

"Ecklie's going to still blame Greg."

Nick let out a sigh. They were getting somewhere, but not as far as he would have liked. "The suspect that broke in had no interest of anything valuable, they were interested in Greg's mail instead. Catherine and Warrick found stacks of it all over the room."

"What is valuable changes from person to person Nick. You have to know who your person is in order to understand what they want."

"Or know what they want in order to figure out who we are dealing with," Nick suggested. "This really doesn't help us. There's still so much we don't know."

"Then let's focus on what we do know."

"Okay," Nick took in a deep breath, leaning back in the chair. "We know two people took our current suspect's statement, Carla and Greg. When interviewed orally, their words matched almost exactly. Written proof…Carla's matches what she said, but Greg's statement is now gone. Media gets false leads on the case through the department a few hours after Greg returns to the lab…"

"Leaves it open for anyone to get a call through."

Nick nodded. "Makes it less likely Greg said something at the scene or on his way back. The media would have had it before Greg filed the reports. Archie checked his phone records…Greg made a few calls between the scene and the lab, but to no one outside of the department. Same with incoming calls."

"Still doesn't rule out the fact that someone overhead the conversation. The records lists the calls and length of time, but not what was said."

"Somehow…" Nick agreed quietly; but he didn't want to accept the fact that Greg had passed information along. It just didn't seem like something he would do. "Case files disappear, media is all over the case, and Greg is sent home."

"Normally a suspension would be likely to occur in this case," Grissom said. "But without solid proof that Greg did actually make a mistake…he can't be."

"I thought Ecklie didn't want to deal with more overtime," Nick interrupted.

"That was his excuse," Grissom explained, "He wants someone to blame for the department's mistake."

"Unbelievable," Nick muttered quietly, shaking his head. "With as many cases we have broken you'd think he'd have everyone's backs once in a while."

Grissom ignored it. "What else do we have? If these two events are related…why? If the suspect was going to break into an apartment, why risk having the owner come home earlier than expected?"

"Maybe the suspect needed Greg there?"

"Why?"

Nick shrugged, taking a breath as he thought it over. He had first thought it was used as a distraction…allowing someone to slip away unnoticed as everyone was being hammered by the media as well as the rest of the department. They could slip away…do what was needed to be done, and return without ever being missed…unless…

"They needed to know where Greg lived."

"Then why created such circumstances? It would be easy to follow Greg or Sara back after any shift."

"Not everyone knows that Greg and Sara are living together. Mostly nightshift, and a few of the lab techs. Everyone else just assumes they're dating. Besides, any other time, there was a good chance Greg would have noticed he was being followed. Greg was too distracted after the incident to pay attention to what was going on around him."

"Exactly what I thought."

Nick stared at him with a confused expression. "You knew this already? Why didn't you just tell me then?"

"I'd like you to figure some things out on your own," Grissom replied with a smile. "It's good practice."

"For what? Going insane?"

His only response was a smile. The man irritated Nick sometimes; it was a good feeling to build up to such a conclusion, only to learn it already had been reached.

"So tell me, what else do you know that I don't?"

"Well…Wendy's running samples collected from the running shoe Greg managed to swipe."

"Shoe? I didn't find any shoes in the evidence."

"I had Catherine process it right away to give to Wendy. I wanted a match a soon as possible."

"Sweat…" Nick said, realizing what Grissom was after. "DNA?"

"If we're lucky. Nothing special about the shoe itself though. Men's size ten and a half Adidas, pretty much something anyone can buy."

"So Greg can get the guy's shoe…but not a description of his face?"

"Struggle happened; Greg was trying to subdue him long enough for the cops to arrive…suspect decided it was worth losing a shoe over. That would explain how Greg got kicked in the head as well," Grissom explained.

"You know…if the guy wanted to hurt Greg…it would have been easy. There's no telling if he had any sort of weapon on him…"

Grissom only nodded, and Nick let out a sigh of relief. It was a scary thing to think about, and Nick knew that the questions of 'why' would be not too far behind.

He wasn't quite sure what to think when he first woke. Other than completely irritated, that was. It had been his phone…well, the hotel phone that was. Catherine had taken his cell before he left his apartment with promises of returning it as soon as possible. Greg wasn't too concerned…it really hadn't been of much help to him earlier.

Still half-asleep, he had disentangled himself from Sara's hold, reaching over to answer the shrill ring that was coming from the nightstand. Greg was sure that it was Grissom, and wasn't surprised to find out that he was right. However, Grissom wasn't calling him into work; that in itself was a surprise. Instead he was giving him the night off…and Sara as well.

He could use the night off; Greg knew that he could. He wasn't ready to face his so called 'new' job just yet. Being hounded and supervised like a little kid wasn't his idea of work. Worst of all, he hadn't the faintest clue of how long it was going to last.

Now awake, he had a hard time deciding what made him feel worse. The fact Grissom had woken him only to tell him to go back to sleep…or the fact he woke up in Sara's embrace. They had argued…well, she had done most of the arguing herself; then she hadn't showed up after the break in, neither did she ask.

It was hard to admit that she hadn't been there when he had needed her the most. At the time when he needed to hold her, and hear her say that everything was going to be alright. Instead the opposite had happened. She had cut him down when he was the weakest, and looking for support from the person he trusted the most in the world.

He had been here before, and it was a place he never had wanted to return. College had been hard enough, adding on the fact of his chosen field never garnered much from the ladies. Still there were a few that had looked his way; one girl in particular he took a liking too.

There had been casual meetings, then dates. Nothing too serious…then one lonely night they had gotten drunk, and things got out of control. How old had he been? Twenty-two; she was only a year older than he was.

Greg had been sure that things would have taken off from there. Then he learned he had merely been a pawn in a bet. The following day the money was exchanged, and Greg was treated to laughter, and ridicule. It was safe to say he hadn't followed through with dating for a long, long time.

Things weren't the same here; he knew that. He was no longer in college, and Sara was not the gambling type. If she was, she held one hell of a poker face. But it didn't change how he felt inside. Betrayed.

He glanced back over at her, watching her sleep quietly, unmoved from where he had pulled away. She was beautiful, yes; but that wasn't what drew him close to her. It was her intellect, it was the way she both admired and despised his tastes, his…hobbies, if you would call them. She could be short-tempered, stubborn, and downright bitter at times. But he could look into those same eyes and find comfort, and understanding, and an unspoken love he couldn't describe.

Things had been difficult lately; better, certainly better than they had been before, but still not perfect. Finances were a daily problem, and work was draining the both of them physically, not to mention emotionally given their past. Everyone at work still treated them as though they were made of glass, despite the events having long been gone. Greg knew they all meant well…well, most of them, at least. He had the slightest of feelings that a few people in particular didn't care much for him; Ecklie being the top of that list, followed closely by Brass.

He let out a soft laugh, burying his head in his hands as he fought off a yawn. He had slept nearly eight hours, but still felt exhausted. Greg knew that one night of sleeping wouldn't make up for everything, but he still had been surprised. The bed was more than tempting to lay back down on, but the thought of going back to sleep as if nothing happened made him queasy.

It was then he first heard it. There were always a variety of new, strange sounds whenever they stayed away from home, and even now, in the late evening, people would still be milling around the hotel. But it wasn't coming from outside of the room; no…it sounded like…

Greg turned and looked at Sara, who had only moments before been sleeping soundly. Now she was moving almost timidly, eyes still closed as she was muttering under her breath. He didn't need to be an expert to know when someone was having a nightmare.

Greg reached over, scooting up on the bed near her as he put his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. It took a few tries but she finally met his gaze, her eyes still heavy from the dream, glistening with unshed moisture. Her own fingers were wrapped around his forearm, holding him tightly as if afraid to let him go.

"Are you okay?"

It was all he could think of saying at the moment, at a loss for words without knowing if she was still angry with him. Sara nodded quickly, but held onto his arm when he tried to pull away. "Stay."

Her voice nearly broke his heart. He didn't have to ask to know what her nightmare had been about. There were only a few nightmares that could get her to act this way. Though she had never told Greg about them, he could pretty well imagine what they were like. He still had them, but they were fleeting, coming and going when they pleased. Sometimes they'd surface when he wasn't even thinking about them. Other times, when he was certain he'd have them, they'd hadn't come.

"Sara…"

"Please Greg…" she pleaded. "You don't have to say anything…just stay here."

He let out a nod, pulling her against his chest as he leaned against the headboard. She was still shaking, but he knew that would go away soon enough. Sadly he wondered if the nightmares would ever go away, or if that was something the both of them would always have to face.

TBC