DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI

Thanks MG12CSI16 and Jannet525 for revieing this. Hope you like the next chapter.

The song was still playing. He must have left it on repeat.

I wasted my nights,

You turned out the lights

Now I'm paralysed

As soon as the others ran into the room, Sara stood where she had been since first entering the room, her mouth slightly open.

"Where is he?" Warrick was asking.

"The window!" Catherine gasped.

"Sara, did you..." Nick began, his voice trailing off.

Catherine turned to Sara.

"What did you do to Greg?" her voice was angry.

Sara stood still, unable to defend herself.

"Sara, goddamnit, just because he told us what happened doesn't mean you have to go over here and..."

"Hang on." Warrick interupted. "Sara, what happened?"

She was silent.

"That's it, I'm calling the police." Catherine said, pulling her hpone out of her pocket.

"Now wait." Grissom said. "The first thing we need to do is find out what happened to him."

"Look out the window Nick" Warrick said.

"No. You do it."

"Catherine?" Warrick asked, and the womans face turned from one of anger to one of fright.

"I...I can't."

"I'll do it." Grissom said eventually, pushing past Sara.

He looked out the open window and saw the reason why Sara was so still. A young man with blonde and brown spiky hair lay on his face with his arms spread out. There was a pool of blood around hid head.

"Griss?" Nick asked.

"It's him" Grissom said, finally bringing his head back into the room.

If happy ever's did exist

I would still be holding you like this

All those fairytales are fulkl of shit

One more fucking love song I'll be sick

"It wasn't me." Sara whispered eventually. Catherine was crying, so was Nick. Sara had no tears left. What she felt was more than just sadness.

"We better go down." Warrick said eventually.

And so the five of them trudged down the stairs, out the back door and round to the alley outside Greg's apartment building. Grissom called Brass on the way and he said he had few guys just around the corner from Greg's house, he'd send them over. The CSI's walked slowly, as none of them wanted to see the energetic, bouncy, happy Greg they all knew lying on the concrete, lifeless. Sara at least hoped he'd had his eyes closed. Then they could all pretend it was just a deep, peacefull sleep he was in, like one of the times he'd fallen asleep in the breakroom after pulling one too many doubles. Sadly, they all knew that this time, he was never going to wake up again. There was a lot blood on the ground, Grissom had told them. He was lying in at least eight pints of blood.

But when they got down there, they got a shock. The blood pool was huge, but there was no body. Greg was gone.

There wasn't anything else they could do to him. They'd blown him up. They'd beaten him up. They'd stood him up. Greg started to think of everybody as "they" as it was him against the world. The people he used to call his friends were no different to the people who'd pulled him out of his car and attacked him. In the end, they were all just people, and Greg's job had taught him that people killed other people. In Las Vegas, you didn't get many people dying from animal attacks. People who died by falling off something, even if they were alone, it always came back to somebody. Their husband for not going with them. Their friend for texting her while she was walking past a cliff on a windy day. The shop salesperson who sold her a bad pair of shoes because his business needed the money. The man at the visitor centre for not warning her how windy it was. In the end, everyone was a killer. And Greg was dead.

Inside.

He was proud of himself. Archie, Henry, Mandy and Wendy had been too. It was the first time he'd ever seriously asked her out, and she'd said yes. He'd booked a nice Italian restaraunt and spent an hour with Wendy and Mandy trying to find a shirt that didn't have cartoon charecters, wierd slogans, floral or Hawaiin prints on it. He'd spent the longest he'd ever spent doing his hair. All his friends at the lab were tired of hearing him talk about it.

Greg hadn't planned on telling the other CSI's about it, he thought it might make things wierd, but Nick and Catherine still knew about his crush on Sara from the night after he'd passed his final profficency test. He'd had way too much to drink that night. They had told Warrick, and when the three of them noticed Greg's chirpiness, they'd asked him. So Greg had ended up telling his three friends about his date with Sara after shift on Friday night, and though none of them had ever asked her about it, they were a little surprised. Sara had never shown any romantic interest in Greg before, in fact, Catherine had always thought she was a little too interested in Grissom.

He'd waited for two hours. Then he'd gone home. He had been worried. Worried that she had been kidnapped or hurt so he'd called to her house. All he'd had to do was look in the window. She was fine. Sitting on the couch, watching telvision. Greg had left before she could see him, dropping the flowers he'd bought in her driveway. Then he stepped on them. It didn't make him feel any better.

On the way home in his car, every radio station was playing love songs. Greg flipped back and forth, until eventually, Maroon 5 Payphone had come on. Greg had downloaded the song on his ipod when he got home, and had played it everyday when he went out jogging, trying to run away from the pain. He couldn't. Greg had stopped going into work, calling in sick at first, but on the third day, he just stayed at home. He had opened his window and looked out.

I f happy ever after's did exist, I would still be holding you like this

There was one thing Greg was certain of, as he looked out the window. Happy ever after's didn't exist. And, he had thought, nothing ever after was better than miserable ever after.

Yeah, all these fairytales are full of shit, One more fucking love song I'll be sick.

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