***

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***

The smell.

First it was small, ignorable, but then it had grown. The odor’s molecules had spread, mixing with the air in the glass-walled DNA lab, though it did not fade away. It was coming on strong, as if its source was only becoming more active. Whatever it was wasn’t a normal thing to find in the lab, and most certainly meant something was wrong. Nine times out of ten, something wrong in the crime lab spelled harm to the evidence.

Burning plastic wasn’t the most lovely scent as well, so he turned. Greg’s eyes caught sight of the fume hood for a moment…

Then it hit.

The explosion was sudden, the flames engulfing in a thunderous cloud, shooting through the lab with a deafening crash. The force it brought on was huge, shaking the crime lab’s very foundation, sending Greg’s form across the room. He had barely enough time to raise an arm in defense, but no one was ready, for no one expected it.

Everyone had been caught off guard.

He was then on the ground, lying on his stomach. The surrounding flames flickered, reflected by the shattered glass while pieces of damaged machinery let out bursts of sparks. They alone lit what was left of the DNA lab.

The alarms were going off, their sirens screaming down the halls. The sprinklers then switched on and began to rain water onto the floor below, dousing the flames that had scorched Greg’s back and neck.

As if on cue, the water woke him from his stunned state. He slowly lifted his head, eyes opening to catch a glimpse of the destruction. His vision was fogged though, by both the smoke and haze that glazed his eyes.

The shock then came off the other scientists all at once, rendering them panicked and confused. The sounds of running feet barely made it to Greg’s ears. His head: swimming. The burning, aching sensation had consumed his whole form. He was completely numb, helpless.

As the thought flickered away, the last thing Greg registered was the warm stream of blood trickling down the side of his face. His head then dropped again and he lay on the floor, limp and unconscious.

***

Greg woke with a jolt, sitting upright in his bed. His body gave protest to the sudden movement, sending trickles of pain through the burn scars in his back, but he only winced, letting the fact sink in that he was in his room, not lying half-charred on the ground of the crime lab.

Sweat rolled down the side of his face, rounding around the bandage on his cheek as the scientist fought for control over his breathing. Thoughts were flying around in his mind, his heart still going a mile a minute.

“It… was just another dream,” he panted. Just another flashback, nothing more…

The explosion was a mere memory now, happening weeks ago, but everyday, Greg was reminded of it by the burns on his back and the bandages on his cheek and neck. He was healing, and alive, but the memory would always be there to plague him.

Slowly, he laid back down, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling. Letting out a long-drawn sigh, his eyes closed. He did not fall to sleep, though, for he was beyond that option. It was still early in the morning, but Greg was wide awake, like he was after all the flashbacks he suffered. It was all the same, traveling in an endless cycle. The scientist couldn’t take a nap without being startled awake by a dream.

Worst of all, Greg felt himself beginning to feel restless. He had been off from work for what seemed like a millennia. Coming home from the hospital, where he remembered nothing but resting and the doctors and Catherine coming in to talk to him, he was faced with sitting at home with nothing to do and nowhere to go. He was restless and definitely did not find the idea that he had another week off comforting.

Lying there for another ten minutes, brooding over the fact of the crime lab made the desire to return mount to a new level. He had to face it all again, and it was now or never. If he didn’t go back, the chances were that he never would. The Las Vegas Crime Laboratory was Greg’s life.

Vaguely, the exchange he and Grissom had before he was discharged from the hospital replayed in his mind.

Growling, Greg shook his head. “Fuck you, Grissom, I’m going to work.”

So he sat up once more, leaving his burns’ second round of protests in the back of his mind, and got ready.

***

Greg arrived in the lab in normal time, though he sat in his car for a few minutes after turning off the ignition, summoning up enough courage to step out and head towards the building. He chewed on his lower lip, his knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel as second thoughts raced through his mind.

With the little self-coaxing, he opened the door and stepped out. Even then, he approached the entrance rather quietly, and slowly, passing fellow co-workers. He threw on his new lab coat after entering the building, blending in with the other scientists. A shiver ran through him from the feel of the soft fabric draping around him. Adjusting the collar, he rounded the corner.

As he did, he practically ran into someone. Greg was about to murmur an apology and flee from the encounter when he looked up to meet the steady gaze of…

“Grissom…” he stated, a bit startled. Always count on a lovely encounter first thing, he added sarcastically, wincing as the crime scene investigator kept staring at him. Finally, the man spoke.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Greg frowned. No anger had been visible in the statement, though concern clearly had. That was what it was like, even before the accident. Everyone saw him as smaller and younger, less experienced. He was always underestimated, but now, ever since the accident, he had only been receiving worry, concern, and pity from anyone. It’s good to know you’re cared for, but it gets plain frustrating after awhile.

Greg was beginning to feel himself weaken under that lingering ice-blue gaze. He let a shudder travel down his spine as he quickly found a response.

“I’m alright,” he merely whispered, surprising himself in the process. He couldn’t remembered speaking so softly before.

Not allowing time for Grissom to respond, Greg skirted past him, rounding another corner to leave his sight. He was walking rather quickly now, as if trying to leave the uneasy feeling behind, yet the more he walked, the more his subconscious forced his heart to pound. It felt like it was beating in his throat.

Pushing himself past others, he caused himself to gain their attention, but he kept his head bowed, staying away from eye contact. In doing so, his feet reflexively retraced a path that was all too familiar to them, a path that he had walked for countless days.

But the scientist wasn’t met by the clean, pure sight of his DNA lab…

… He was met by the wreckage…

Greg stopped dead in his tracks, loosing several hues in his skin-tone. He could feel himself begin to go into shock from the sight. His eyes widened and his jaw hung as he gazed at it, and all the caution tape. This had been his lab, his lab, where he was the master, where he had practically lived for the past couple of years. All those results and reports, done by him alone, only him, but now…

A searing pain waved over Greg’s back and neck, causing him to double-over. Something that had long wanted to be released then got stuck in his throat. The horror before him had triggered the memory, the dreadful experience of the explosion, nothing more. The vision of the exploding fume hood was playing through his mind again and again. The sob then escaped, and he felt himself begin to go limp.

“Greg!”

Someone was there to catch him as he fell back, though. The recognizable voice made tears sting in the back of his eyes, though he did not dare to let them fall. Turning, he buried his head against her shoulder.

Catherine returned the gesture by hugging the scientist and pulling him back away from the scene. Greg was shaking terribly, biting his lip hard to keep in another sob.

Oh God, I’m loosing it, he thought frantically. Visions of the fire, the pain, and the blood returned, flashing in his sight. A small crowd of their co-workers was forming now, their stares seemed to burn holes in his body, but he was beyond caring. Why won’t this horrid nightmare go away?

The lab then began to spin around him. The last thing he remembered was a pair of strong arms wrap around him as he collapsed again.

***

When Greg’s eyes fluttered open, he was met by the sight of a blank, white nothingness. Wincing from the bright light, he turned his head, his gaze falling upon a pair of dark blurs seated at a table. Blinking rapidly, he tired to focus his vision again.

“Hey, look who’s up.” A feminine voice. Catherine.

“It’s only been ten minutes.” Warrick.

“Oh shush.”

When his vision finally cleared, the scientist found himself in the lounge. He was lying on one of the couches with another lab coat thrown over him, acting like a blanket. His memory was blank for a moment, but then everything came flooding back.

“How are you feeling?” Catherine asked, standing and pushing in the chair she now left unoccupied.

“Okay, I guess.” He sat up, but was at once overcome by dizziness. Groaning, he slipped forward again, but the blonde CSI laid a steady hand on his shoulder and sat beside him.

“You don’t look alright,” Warrick commented, stirring his coffee.

Greg missed the look Catherine sent him. “You had another week off Greg…”

“I know, I know!” He felt his anger and frustration spark again. “But… just lay off, okay? I’m here, and I’m going to work, so just… stop worrying about me!”

Warrick sipped his coffee thoughtfully, leaving Catherine to reply. “Well, anyone would be worried about someone who suffered through an accident three weeks ago.”

“No thanks to you,” Greg spat. The statement hit home and at once, he regretted saying it. His tone grew soft again. “Sorry Cat… I didn’t mean it. I just… need to work.” He stood, beginning to walk out of the room.

“I’ll show him the new DNA lab,” Warrick volunteered after one look at his fellow CSI’s crushed expression. He jogged after Greg, stepping beside him. “Are you sure you’re all right, man?”

“Seventy-five percent, why?”

The crime scene investigator raised a dark brow.

“What? It’s over fifty percent at least!”

“You should be home resting.”

Greg exploded. “WHY DO YOU ALL SAY THAT?!!”

Startled, Warrick shifted on his feet, glancing nervously at several scientists who had looked up from their work. Greg‘s temper was rarely sparked at work, but when it was, it was sure frightening. “No offense, Greg, but have you even taken a look at yourself?”

“Now that you speak of it, I have. I’m a complete wreck with a cut on my cheek, severely burned flesh on my neck, faded burn scars on my back, and a memory full of nothing but exploding labs! Sorry if you can’t see the scars, but I’m not gonna do a strip tease to show you!”

They stared at each other in silence then. Greg was the first to snap and snorted, chuckling at his own mild humor, though pain clearly shone in his eyes. Warrick laughed his bit too, relieved when the scientist allowed himself to be brought the rest of the way to the new DNA lab.

“Thanks,” Greg murmured, entering the glass-walled room. His eyes traced over every fraction of machinery and his winced upon seeing he fume hood. Clearing his throat, he looked up again. “It has a hell of a sight.”

Warrick looked to where the scientist had gestured and saw the wreckage of the old DNA lab through the glass. Casting a glance at Greg, he saw that his eyes were filmed and distant as he stared at it. “You gonna be all right?”

“Yeah…”

“Catherine and I are going to be here doing paperwork, so you’ll know where to find us if you need anything.”

“Oh? Grissom kept you off the field today?”

“He just left to catch up with Sara and Nick. He seemed a bit pissed that you came in here and passed out.”

Greg smiled, sitting in a chair and giving it an experimental spin. “I guess I’ve saved myself from the Bug-Man’s wrath for now. Make sure to hide me in a closet when he comes in again.”

The CSI sighed. “That I’ll do.” He then watched the scientist glance over to the practically overflowing in-tray. “I better get back to work, and you too… Oh, and Greg?”

He looked up.

“It’s good to have you back.”

Warrick was gone then, leaving Greg to smile to himself. He stood, gathering the first piece of evidence. Perhaps coming back now wasn‘t too bad… But he shivered, casting a long glance at the destroyed DNA lab for another moment. Why do I feel so… weird…?

The sound of a rolling chair disturbed him from his thoughts. Looking to the doorway, he saw everyone’s favorite gun specialist scoot in across the floor.

“Hey Greg! Back already?”

Greg cocked his head at the other scientist. “What do you mean already? It felt like I was gone forever!”

Bobby folded his hands and rested his chin on them, grinning. “It’s great to see someone other then fill-ins in the DNA lab again. It wasn’t the same around here without you.”

He swallowed, looking away for a moment. Why is everyone saying the same thing? It’s not like it would matter if I wasn’t here, wouldn’t it? There would just be someone else to work at the DNA lab… No biggie. I’m just a scientist, that’s that…

Greg placed a mask over his features, though, and smiled back. “Thanks.” He then noticed that he was fiddling with the evidence bag nervously. Bobby must of too since he raised an eyebrow at him. “Better get back to work, huh?”

“Yeah, see ya.” With a kick of his feet, he was rolling back down the hall.

Being alone again, Greg felt a mixture of feelings, both relief and some anxiety. Talking to people had allowed his thoughts to be pushed to the back of his mind, but now the silence hung thickly in the air. He had to strain his hearing to catch some sound. A running printer, a few scientists walking back and forth, the clicking of a keyboard, a murmur of voices talking down the hall… but it faded off as Greg was absorbed into his environment.

Placing the evidence bag on the table, he went to retrieve a test tube from the rack, but his hand stopped halfway. Blinking, he stared at the extended limb. His eyes traveled down the arm to the gloved hand, and he turned it palm up. He was… trembling.

Greg pulled back his hand, clenching it into a fist. He took a deep breath, allowing his eyes to flutter shut for a moment. Opening them again, he tried once more, grasping the test tube quickly and turning to retrieve a vial of substance from the evidence bag.

***

A hand being laid on his shoulder snapped Greg out of is nap. He was sitting upright in an instant, his chair rolling back a bit from the momentum. It was a bit darker then he had last remembered, though the lights were blinding, making him blink rapidly.

“Greg?”

He looked over his shoulder, trying to clear his sleep-filled mind. “What time is it?”

Grissom cast him a sideways look. “Five-past.”

“Five-past what?”

“Six. Greg, how long have you been asleep?”

Greg rubbed his eyes, which no longer had gloves on them. “I just finished processing some evidence and was bagging my gloves… I think it was four-thirty.”

The CSI folded his arms. “Are you still tired?”

“No.” His response was instant, but Grissom visually didn’t buy it. Reaching out, he selected another test tube with his shaking hand, only to have it slip out of his grasp and shatter on the floor. The scientist froze.

“Go home, Greg.”

“What?”

“Go home.” Grissom’s tone was sterner now. “You can come back for your normal shift tomorrow, but I want you to rest. Cases can’t be solved if you’re half asleep.”

A low growl formed in the base of Greg’s throat as he stood, breezing right past the older man. He completely ignored the worried look he gave him as he stalked off, and out of sight. He walked straight down the hallway to his car without even the smallest glance backwards.

Tearing out of the parking lot, he drove off. He didn’t know where he was going, other then away from the crime lab and started coasting up and down the streets of Las Vegas. Direction left his mind and he zoned out for a while. An hour ticked by before he chose his destination: the supermarket.

“My refrigerator is getting kind of empty,” Greg mused as he stepped through the doors, retrieving a basket. He didn’t shop for long and selected a few items, making a small visit to the bank that was located in the back of the building before checking out.

As the cashier was scanning in his items, Greg felt a twitch crawl up his back. Looking around, he peered down the aisle to the faraway form of the bank. There, a figure in a long, black trench coat was at the counter. A bag was being held in his hand and the receptionist looked afraid.

“Your total comes to thirty-four, eighty-five.”

Pause.

“Sir?”

Greg turned back, looking at the cashier for a moment. “Oh, yeah.” Retrieving his wallet, he handed her a twenty, a ten, and a five with a trembling hand. Cashing in the trio of bills, she gave back the change.

There was then a sudden ringing of an alarm, followed by a gunshot.

The cashier shrieked and Greg glanced at the flashing and screeching alarms, the explosion at the crime lab three weeks earlier replaying in his conscious. Whirling around, he saw that the man in the trench coat was now running towards them with his bag over his shoulder. A gun was held in his right hand.

“Hey!” The shout was from a few security guards as they rounded around the aisle to pursue the man. Their guns were drawn as well.

Dodging around panicking customers, the man was making straight for the exit, which was located right behind Greg. Greg, left as the only one standing upright as other customers cowered on the ground, practically had the burglar run into him. Their shoulders knocked and the man staggered while the scientist was pushed to the side, gripping the surface of the check-out counter.

Regaining his balance, the man was running again. He was a foot away from the entrance and the automatic doors swung open when he turned to face his pursuers. The security officers were right behind Greg now, but the scientist continued to stand there.

Greg could feel as if things were moving slow again. The sound of the shouting officers behind him was distant, and the memory of the DNA lab accident kept flashing in his mind. His lips then parted as the burglar, and perhaps murderer raised his gun.

The sound of the firing automatic weapon rung through the market. Bullets were rocketing forward and their casings spilled onto the floor. Greg couldn’t feel the pain as one of the bullets struck his chest, though, he was already too far from reality.

Jerking backwards from the impact, he fell, following two officers that had been hit before him. He didn’t get to see the man drop his weapon and escape, for his sight had already failed. The darkness had consumed him before he even hit the floor.

***

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A/N: This series is discontinued at the moment. If people like it enough, maybe I’ll continue working on it. Maybe not.