"Twenty-seven year old, male DB. Gunshot to the temple. Neighbor called it in. Said she heard two gunshots," said Brass. Grissom nodded and traled away on his thoughts. That was before the youngest CSI's expression caught his eye.

"Greg, are you alright?" he asked as he walked up to him. Greg looked at Grissom, paranoid.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. I'm fine." He took a quick look around. "Yeah, so uh, I see a sign of a struggle." Grissom looked around.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He put his hand to Greg's forehead.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're hot."

"Huh?"

"I think you've got a fever. You're burning up." Greg looked down. "Go home and get some rest. Nick should be here anytime now."

"No really; I'm fine."

"...Greg."

"Alright fine. But I'm okay. But whatever." Greg grabbed his kit and walked out the door.

---

The next day...

"Hey Nick?" asked Grissom as he saw the Texan walking through the hall in the lab.

"Yeah?"

"Have you heard from Greg?"

"Nope."

"Alright, tell me if you hear from him."

"No prolemo."

---

"Hey," said Nick as he walked into the DNA Lab.

"Hey, I got a match on your prints."

"...and?"

"I checked it like four times."

"Can't you just tell me?"

"Um, they're Greg's."

"Greg? As in Greg Sanders? As in the one who works here?"

"Yah."

"Now you see... this is a problem."

---

"Grissom!" yelled Nick as he ran down the hallway.

"What is it, Nick?"

"Greg."

"What? You heard from him?"

"No. But he's a prime suspect in our murder case."

"What do you mean?"

"His prints are all over the murder weapon. Face it, they're all over the room. Being a criminalist, you'd atleast expcet him to wear latex gloves."

"Maybe at the crime scene, he just forgot to put on his latex gloves."

"I know Greg. He knows better."

"Well then, I guess we have a problem."

"I'll go by his apartment later."

"Nick, we have to treat him like any other suspect."

"But-"

"We don't have a choice. Go with Brass to his place. We'll see what happens from there." Nick took a deep breath.

"Alright."

---

Greg looked at the door to his apartment as three knocks echoed from it.

"Just a minute!" he yelled as he went to grab a shirt. He opened the door.

"Hey Greggo," said Nick. It was a habit. The look on Brass' face made him worry.

"Come on in," he said slowly.

"Wgt aren't you at work?" asked Nick as he took a seat on Greg's couch.

"Uh, because it's my night off."

"Oh Grissom must have-"

"Gotten the schedule screwed up or something. I got it. What do you guys need?" he asked nervously.

"Where were you last night?" asked Nick.

"At the crime scene with you guys-"

"Okay, yesterday afternoon."

"I was asleep 'til like six. I only had an hour to get ready for work."

"Okay let's cut the crap, Greg," started Brass. "Why were your fingerprints at all over the victim's house? I know you didn't touch the murder weapon at the cirme scene, anyway. Soi definately don't understand why your prints are there. And I let you use my latex gloves because yours had been covered in something sticky." Greg looked around the room.

"I wanna lawyer."

"Alright fine, but what happened to your chin and around it?" asked Nick. Greg rubbed his chin and to the left of it. It was scabbing.

"I said I want a lawyer."

---

"So Nick, how'd it go with Greg?" asked Grissom.

"He wants a lawyer. He did something. I know it."

---

"What was your relationship to the victim?" asked Brass. Greg looked down at his twitching hands and then to his lawyer.

"I didn't know him."

"So, you just go and murder someone you don't know?"

"Brass! You know I'm not like that!"

"Evidence points the murder to you. Wel have enough to keep you in jail for a while."

"No. I'd lose my job!"

"Didn't you screw that up for yourself?" Greg slammed his fist against the table. He looked straight into Brass' eyes. He wore the look of defeted innocence.

"I did it."

---

A/N: I have a lot of stories going on right now. Ha. Please review!