Title: Point Man
Author: Sam
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Gil/Greg/Nick
Warning: Language, explicit sex, angst
Summary: 1) Someone is trying to kill Greg Sanders.
2) Must be a first time story.
3) Greg must be a virgin in all ways.
Notes: Many thanks to Nell for issuing the contest challenge and to Bev for being my beta. Any mistakes are mine. Any bunnies you may find, feel free to take home with you.

Prologue...

To say he woke up would have been a major exaggeration. Too many drugs in his system to do more than realize he *was* drugged, the why of it floating gently just within reach on wisps of gauzy white cotton before it was gone, leaving only the faintest memories of the lab in it's wake.

Hospital. He was in a hospital.

The lab had blown apart, throwing him through the plate glass window and into the hallway. If he tried real hard he thought he could remember flying, the jarring impact and tilt as he slid a bit on the debris-covered floor, coming to a stop a second later. There was silence. And then screaming. And then pain. His hands, his arms. His back...

So he refused to remember. Better to just lie here in the nice white light. Soft, it cradled him in cotton, mind and body at rest; his soul oddly comforted and at peace. He wasn't dead - there was still that nagging little faintness of pain somewhere other than where he was right now - so that must be the drugs.

Sleep beckoned and he was just about to give in when he heard voices. Whispers off to his right, low and intense in a silence filled only with muted, intermittent beeps. Curious (he always had been whenever he could overhear what people said when they talked about *him*), Greg strained to listen...smiling a little in his safe muted cocoon-world when he realized it was Nick at his bedside. Which meant Grissom wasn't far behind.

"We could have lost him today, Gris. Before we could tell him..."

"I know, Nicky." There was a pause and then, softer...so soft he almost missed it. "We didn't. Greg's still here."

"Do they know what happened?"

"Not yet. I've got Catherine investigating the explosion. We'll know more in a few days."

"The sheriff isn't thinking foul play?"

"I doubt it. Greg just isn't the kind to have enemies." A soft chuff. "Beside, I don't think anyone wants to disrupt his supply of coffee into the lab..."

A laugh. "Ain‘t that the truth. I wonder if he knows we all came by to see him?"

"If he doesn't, he will. We'll make sure to take better care of him from now on..."

And then he heard no more; the heavy warmth at knowing his friends were there and cared about him losing him the battle and sending him back down into sleep.

* * * * *

Point Man

"Where do you want me?" Standing out in the bright morning sun, Greg shifted from foot to foot, awaiting Nick's orders. While not his first assignment in the field, he was hoping this would be his first without any screw ups.

While disappointed, Grissom never called them that - never screw ups, only mistakes and that every CSI in training made them. Greg called them by what they were. Screw ups. He should know better by now how to act at a crimescene though for some reason he kept slipping up and doing something wrong anyway.

At least with Nick it wasn't so bad. With Nick he could relax and even joke a little. With Grissom, more often than not, he was terrified. Would end up trying too hard and missing something, following wrong procedure, or just plain blank on some obscure fact that at any other time he could rattle off in his sleep.

So far the other techs at the labs had yet to let him live down the bathroom episode. And while most of the time the rest of the night shift CSI's would buck up and treat him decently while on a case, it was clear their hearts really weren't in it.

But then, he knew from first hand experience how hard it was to do something by route so many times only to have to back up and explain it to someone not used to following along. While not too bad at first, after the hundredth question, Greg could imagine it would get old right quick. At least he had gotten lucky in the lab.

He had really thought Chandra had a chance with the night shift. That was, until he caught Warrick and Nick betting on how long it would take them to run her off. He had been disappointed at first - ok so he had been pissed - but he truly believed them when they swore it had nothing to do with him, personally. Only that her personality itself had been all wrong for the group she was going to be working with.

Hopefully this new tech could...

"Greg?"

The sound of his name snapped him back to the present. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Thinking about the house?" Nick asked with a smile on his lips, jotting notes onto a clipboard with his head down so noone else could see it but Greg. Knowing he was wit-wandering again.

"More like wondering just how the killer got in and out again without tracking in half the desert around on his shoes." Pleased with the retort, Greg realized it was even true. The front yard was mostly sand, rock and cactus with an equally precise slate and gravel pathway winding up to the front door. A sculpted agricultural monument to desert living. He frowned back into the house. "Just how *did* he do that?"

"Why don't you go tell me?" Nick suggested. "Start with the lawn out back. The front may boast more sand than your average beachfront property but the back is nice and green. There wasn't any grass found but you never know. Sand tracks a lot easier than dirt when it's anchored."

"I'm on it."

Fifteen minutes later found Greg sitting straddled over a low wall made of mortar and rock. About three feet high, it was just the right height to jump, and if that was the case - and if Greg could find corresponding transfer - then they could pinpoint the direction from which the suspect had entered the property. Possibly maybe even lead them to a getaway vehicle on further out.

Legs lightly swinging, sneakers bumping gently on the uneven stone on the sides, Greg lined up another shot with the large camera and, checking to make sure the settings were correct, snapped off a series of shots. Dirt and even a piece of what he would swear to be small gravel. Probably from the shoulder stretch of highway he could see curving just beyond the sparse line of trees about 20 yards away. Listening to the peaceful quiet and the birds singing off in the trees, he realized just how isolated this part of the house was. A sharp curve, by the time anyone realized a wall was even there they would already be passed the property and gone

Someone could have parked on the edge, maybe faking a breakdown, using something to hang out the window as a flag...

Greg shrugged, setting the camera down and preparing to swing over and go investigate. If he could find tire treads in the loose dirt and gravel of the shoulder then he would know for sure.

Just as he did, the whole wall came crumbling apart...

* * * * *

"Ow."

"Take it easy, you big baby," Brass grinned from where he stood beside the paramedic treating Greg's head wound. "It's just a little Iodine."

"Don't you know that stuff is just an insidious tool created by the pharmaceutical companies to make you want to buy the following pain killers and ointments to drown out the sting?"

The cop only chuckled. "Insidious? See I told you he was fine. Can‘t be concussed when he‘s throwing around words like that."

"You don‘t know Greg," Grissom opined, studying the area around the wall that fell on Greg after his tumble. "You take stills of this before you thought to pull a Humpty Dumpty?"

"Yeah. They're still in the camera. I found a bit of what could be dirt and maybe tiny bits of gravel from the highway. I was about to go check it out when the wall collapsed."

"Well?" The quirk on Grissom's lips could only be a smile as he looked at the younger man. "Shall we go investigate? See what we can find?"

Greg found himself grinning back. "Good idea."

Another Grissom grin and the older man called over his shoulder, "First one over the wall buys breakfast."

Brass clapped Greg on the back and smirked. "Too late."

* * * * *

The second time a medic was called on scene for Greg he had slipped on a wet patch of grass, saturated from the automatic sprinkler system. Narrowly missed getting beaned by a fly by bit of debris accidentally pushed out of a window by the firemen on the second floor. As it was he had a sprained ankle and had to walk around in wet denim half the night. His jeans were soaked and while he had taken Warrick's lecture on being prepared to heart (he even had a second kit ready to go behind the back seat of the jetta) he had forgotten to pack a spare set of clothing.

So he shook his head, got to work making an initial sketch of the scene and made a mental note that the first thing he did when he got home after shift was to pack that bag. It helped him ignore the shakes of heads and the looks of exasperation or downright disgust from some of the guys on scene. Unfortunately he couldn't *not* hear the snickers.

Not from his team, but that was cold comfort when he turned only to see Sara laughing with one of the cops, quickly looking away from his direction.

He resolutely turned back to his notes, thereby missing the following glare she threw his way.

* * * * *

"Greg - ?"

"Don't ask, ok? Just - don‘t ask." Throwing his spare bag into his locker with enough force to rattle the row, Greg sat down on the bench, turning away from Catherine. Thankful that he had another set of clothes in his spare in the locker and wouldn‘t have to go home for something suitable for work. Even if he was just in the lab tonight.

Again.

"Ok so if I can't ask..." the redhead trailed off and Greg could hear the sarcasm in the dry tone. "Are you going to tell me why you come limping in here in torn clothes, bruises and in a mood bad enough to make Brass look like Miss Manners?"

"Don't forget the shiner I'll no doubt be sporting in about an hour. But no, I‘m not." Heedless in his anger to anyone else who might be in the room, he stripped off his shirt and threw it, too, in the open cavern of his locker. "Ok, so yeah, I'm really beginning to think someone Up There is out to get me." He frowned. "Or at least has me on their naughty list."

"Naughty list - ?" She didn't see the bruises on his throat until Greg turned around. "Jesus. Greg. What the hell happened?"

"Mugged on the way to work. Not even CSI's are immune to petty thugs it would seem. But then, I'm not really a CSI, am I? So I guess that wouldn' t count anyway..."

"Mugged? But..."

"Ok so technically I was shot at and then mugged, but what's the difference when it all could have just been a car backfire and since I'm only playing at being one of the big boys..."

Hoping to halt the bitter tirade, Catherine held up her hands. "Wait. Just wait. Slow down. Who said you're not one of us?"

"The cops down at the precinct."

"*Brass* said..."

"Not Brass...Tyner. Oh and he has a new partner, Ted Mercer. Those two go together like two peas in a pod... Called me a wannabe and told me they had plenty of real crimes to solve." He had stilled during his rant but now jerked back to the present, pulling on a bright orange and green Monster Magnet tshirt and lime green and brown button open over that. Horrible combination and it didn‘t match but Greg couldn‘t quite bring himself to care. Isn‘t that what they all said anyway? "Maybe he's right. Maybe I should just stay in the lab where I belong."

Catherine looked at him in disbelief and a little anger of her own. "No. He 's *not* right, Greg. You're one of the best..."

His snort interrupted her. "Yeah in here..."

"Anywhere. So you make a few mistakes," she told him. "Who hasn't?"

"You."

"Not me. If anyone should know that, you should."

"I..." He closed his mouth. "Nick."

"Wrong. Think Kristy. Spilling the beans about a scene to his friend from college."

"But...well, ok, but..."

"Warrick had his gambling. Grissom has his territorial posturing every now and then with Ecklie. Which is bound to get interesting now that Ecklie's the new assistant director."

A little humor returned to his eyes and he smirked. "Yeah ain't that a bitch."

"A cold one," she surprised him by smiling. "And Sara we're just now learning of."

"Yeah, second strike. How is she anyway? Still out pending Grissom's report?"

"Yeah. Should be back by the end of the week. Minus the cough drops." Catherine confirmed, adding lightly, "So if you want to keep getting the cases you have been, you need to stay out of trouble."

The bitterness returned. "Meaning I need to let this go..."

"Hell no," Catherine retorted. Getting up, she offered him a hand. He took it and she used the leverage to pull him up. "Meaning you need to go to Grissom - or maybe Brass - and find out just what the hell's going on when the cops in this city start picking and choosing the victims." Realizing what she had just said, Catherine shook her head, holding up a hand to forestall any comment. "That came out wrong. I meant when the cops start picking and choosing the crimes they're willing to investigate."

Biting his lip thoughtfully, Greg asked, "You think it really could have been a car backfire?"

"Who knows?" Catherine gave him a brief hug. "But I wasn't there, Greg and neither were they. It's the cops duty to investigate the scene and ours to process the evidence," she told him, adding firmly, "They should have at least taken your statement and checked out the scene."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now go corner Grissom. And Greg?" He looked up and with a straight face she advised, "You might want to throw a lab coat over those clothes. May help to tone down the glare."

That got a laugh. "Gee thanks." But he *did* retrieve the light blue coat from the locker and pull it on.

Pulling open her own door, the mother waved away any thanks. "Free of charge. I kinda like my corneas the way they are."

"You're no fun. Catherine?"

"Yeah?"

"About the cops?" He looked back with that smile she adored so much. A bit shy, a bit of confidence and a touch of boyish good humor. "I knew what you meant."

* * * * *

"Ok gang, I know we're spread a bit thin tonight, so...." Grissom looked around the table at his team, handing out assignments. "Just hold on until Sara gets back, alright? Catherine, I want you on a burglary/homicide over on the Strip. Warrick, you and Greg. DB off of US93. Tourist."

Groaning, Warrick took the sheet, not even looking at the information printed there. "Let me guess - playing Ansel Adams and fell off the dam?"

Grissom only shrugged, lips pressed in a knowing grimace. "Maybe. You tell me. And let me know what you find. The Sheriff's all over this one."

"High profile. Great. You sure you want a trainee on this one?" Glancing at Greg, Warrick frowned. "No offense, Greggo, but..."

Grissom cut him off. "I'm sure. Cops are already on scene and the looky-loos have been pulled back. As far as high profile goes, this is as easy as it gets. Good one to start with."

Now Warrick looked at the file and saw what Grissom meant. "A lot of area to cover but remote. No tours have gone through since the one our DB was in?"

"Nope." Grissom hummed, satisfied. "Virgin territory."

"Ok you got it." Getting up with a stretch, he turned to Greg, patting him on the shoulder. "Meet you out in the lot in five. You get to bring the coffee."

Greg looked a little distracted, nodding. "Sure."

"What about me, boss?" Nick asked.

"You're with me."

"What's up?" Moving over to Grissom's desk, Nick leaned against the corner, arms crossed while the redhead left with a wave after Warrick.

"We're checking out Greg's attack from last night."

"What?" Nick straightened, shooting the startled trainee a glare. "You never told me about that. It wasn't in any of the reports..."

"Tyner refused to file one," Grissom told him, touch of anger in the mild tone. "Apparently he had better things to do. I for one would think getting shot at would be considered a crime."

There was tension in the lean body and Nick‘s dark eyes glittered to match. "Who shot at you?"

Greg shrugged. "Tyner said - thought it was a car backfire."

"Even so, if there was a shot fired, it would have left behind physical evidence. If not the bullet, then casings. Or GSR. Scuff marks. And the area around the mugging may tell us something."

Nick moved to tilt Greg‘s face up to the light, wincing at the vivid black eye. "I meant to ask you about that when I got here. You ok?"

"I'll be all right." Greg swallowed, assuring him. "You guys really going to investigate my case?

"You may not be one of theirs, Greg," Grissom told him firmly, "But you are one of ours. Of course we're investigating."

"Thanks."

Grissom shrugged but there was a grin on his lips. "You're welcome. Thank you for telling me."

"Thank Catherine, " Greg admitted and Grissom looked up.

"I will."

"I'd better head over to Trace and see what Hodges has on your clothes from last night. You *did* drop them off, right?" Nick demanded.

"Yes, mom, I dropped my clothes off at the laundry."

"Watch it," the Texan warned before slipping passed him and out the door, but not before tussling Greg's hair on the way.

When Nick was gone, Greg asked, hesitant, "Grissom. Are you sure you want me on....well - "

"Something this big?" Grissom favored the young man from over the rim of his glasses, assuring him, "I'm sure. You let me deal with the Sheriff."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Mmhmm." Finding the file he wanted, Grissom advised, "You‘d better hurry up or Warrick will leave without you. Don't forget the coffee." He let out a short bark of laughter as Greg did just that. Sticking his head out the door, Gil called, "And change your shirt!"

* * * * *.

"Wait - wait! Say again? What!?" Ignoring the patrolmen looking at him in sudden alarm, Grissom shouted into his phone, beckoning Nick over. "Ok, Warrick - Warrick, calm down. Nick and I will be there in 20 minutes. Stay with him until we get there, you hear me? I don't want anyone but night shift in to see him."

Following Gil out of the Carriage House, Nick gave an automatic return nod to the senior patrolman, releasing them from the scene. "What's wrong?"

Grissom didn't say anything, rather climbed into the dark blue Tahoe and threw the SUV into reverse before Nick even had his belt on. The tight clench of his jaw spoke volumes, halting any sharp comment Nick might have made about the erratic driving. Whatever it as, Nick wasn't going to like it.

Reaching over to take the hand not holding the wheel, Nick gave his lover a squeeze. They weren't out at the lab, though privately both men assumed it was an open secret on the night shift. They knew Catherine knew, and Greg. The tech had caught them one night a couple weeks ago while bringing fingerprint analysis to Grissom's office. It had only been a kiss but ever since then Greg had never failed to knock. The others they weren't sure about since if they knew, noone was saying anything.

"Breathe, Gil. Whatever it is, we need to be in one piece to deal with it. And as an urban tank, the Tahoe's only so big."

That got a brief smile and return squeeze. Though he only backed down to 70.

"It's about Greg, isn't it?" Nick hazarded, sudden feeling of dread creeping up his spine. "He was going out with Warrick this morning, on a double at the Sands..."

"He never showed at the lab." Taking a wide curve, with another squeeze he let go of Nick's hand, needing both of his for the wheel. "Desert Palms checked his contact information and called the lab. When they couldn't get me, receptionist gave it to Warrick. There was an accident this morning on his way in. Greg's fine, in the ER. Shook up but looks like the worst of his injuries is a broken arm."

"So...he's ok?"

Gil looked over at Nick, noting the firm chin, eyes staring straight ahead out the window. "Hey," he reclaimed the hand, noting the teeth marks on Nick' s bottom lip as his looked back. "He's going to be fine, Nicky. You'll see. We'll get there and he'll be griping about the quality of the hospital coffee and the fact that the nurses won't let him have any anyway."

A short laugh and Nick wiped his eyes. "We need to tell him, Gil."

Grissom sighed and returned his attention to the road, feeling an answering knot in his throat. Not as much traffic but rush hour was scheduled to begin any time now. "I know. We will, Nicky. We'll tell him how we feel about him. Just as soon as we can get him alone, I promise."

"The explosion and now this..." Nick shook his head, frowning. "We never did find any evidence at the scene after Greg was mugged. You don't think someone's after him?"

"Not the explosion - that was an accident. Catherine took full responsibility for that. But this...I don't know. I can't imagine who would be."

"You told Warrick not to let anyone in but night shift," Nick realized. "You don't think it's one of us?"

Hospital looming up ahead, Grissom didn't answer; only parked as close as they could. In worried silence, both men converged on the hapless staff of the ER.

* * * * *

Three weeks later, they were still no closer to finding out who may be after Greg. No closer to having that little ‘talk' with the younger man, either. Between the investigations and field work, Greg was never alone for very long.

A part of Grissom had planned it that way - it was always harder to attack someone when the intended target was inside a group. But the rest was pure accident. Whenever he or Nick would manage to steer the conversation into a suitable segue, someone or something would come up and they were off again. Grissom to his office or a scene, and Greg to his lab or a different scene.

Lying in their bed in the back of Gil's townhouse poor Nick was in a state. Torn between laughter and helpless frustration. The two lovers had been talking about bringing Greg into their relationship for months now. Ever since the lab explosion had forced them to realize just how much the younger man had come to mean to both of them. The problem now was just how to do this without sending him screaming for the hills, never to look back.

But while being a dilemma on a purely personal level, until whoever was responsible for the attacks was caught and put behind bars, Greg's safety was more important. He and Nick could wait.

Greg's mugger had been very good; good enough to vanish into the woodwork and the findings from Greg's car were looking grim. The brake lines had been cut. Sara was sure of it. And still they were no closer to a suspect.

Who would have motive to go after Greg in such a way? Why would they want to? As far as anyone knew, Greg didn't have anyone holding a grudge against him in Vegas. Grissom said as much in confusion to Nick.

"Hell, Gil," Nick sighed. "We all have a reason to look guilty of holding a grudge against Greg. Appearance if not actual motive."

Lying on his side, Gil left off from nibbling behind one ear to rub, resting his cheek against that ear, arms resting in a tight circle around the younger man‘s torso. "Run that by me again?"

"He's great in the lab. With him where he belongs - where we're used to seeing him, depending on him - you don't have to deal with finding a replacement."

"I don't now - Greg found her weeks ago." Grissom pointed out, one shoulder shrugging. "She's ok."

"Yeah, but you can't tell me you're not waiting for her to screw up." Nick accused and Gil winced.

"Guilty," he admitted. "Greg's good. The best. I *do* keep waiting for something to come along she'll have to pass along to him to get it sorted out."

"You see?" Nick nodded. "Warrick and I even bet on the first one. What was her name?"

"No idea," Gil shrugged unrepentant. "She didn't last long enough to be more than a blur."

"Exactly. Chandra!" Nick frowned. "I think. Anyway...she didn't even last a shift. And I know that I'd rather trust my findings to Greg than some stranger. No matter how good they are."

"That's not Greg's fault."

"I‘m not saying it is. But I'm not the only one that feels that way. I know Rick and Catherine feel the same way. Sara isn't saying but I've seen her casting glares at the new tech. Don't know her name either."

"So...what?" Gil sighed, resting his forehead against the back of Nick's neck, inhaling the fresh scent of soap and shampoo. Spooned behind his lover, he was about ready to drop. It had been a long month. "We're all a suspect?"

"By motive, yeah I guess. I've heard the lab guys giving him grief for months now," Nick echoed the sigh, feeling himself drifting off into sleep, holding onto the arms around him. "Ever since he told you it wasn't about the money. Hodges is just more vocal about it, that's all."

He felt Gil snort behind him, placing one last kiss against his skin before snuggling in for sleep himself. "Hodges is an ass. But an honest one."

"Yeah maybe."

"You, me, Catherine, Sara, Warrick - the techs... So if we're all guilty by motive, where does that leave us?"

Gil's only answer was a soft snore.

* * * * *

"Greg's certainly gotten accident prone since being out in the field," Archie snickered, shaking his head at the traitor in their midst. Not that he had anything against Greg, of course. But why would any sane tech want to be out in the field when everyone knew the big money was in lab work?

Hodges only looked up from his scope, watching Sanders as he turned the corner out of sight. "No. He hasn't. Your fiber? Not fiber," he countered, "More like a synthetic."

"Synthetic what?"

"How should I know? Why should I care?"

Archie snorted in annoyance. "Well what should I tell Catherine?"

"That you're the AV guy? Or how about I'm overloaded and don't have time for the lab's resident multiple personality case to figure out who he wants to be tonight." Hodges waved a hand in an impatient gesture. "Just take it to Sanders and let him do his job... Whichever one that is today."

* * * * *

"Jacqui, my love, give me some good news on my print." Grinning a wide smile, Greg leaned on her counter as best as he was able with one arm in a sling and batted his eyes at her.

The print tech snorted good naturedly and glared at him, unimpressed by his so called charms. "Only if you promise to stop trying to stir up a hurricane in here."

"Duly noted." He agreed easily enough. "So....any luck?"

"You lift this?" she asked, glancing from the print she was looking at and back at him.

"Well...if it's good, then yes I did. If not, it's all Nick's doing, " he grinned.

She smirked, tweaking, "In that case Nick does good work."

"Ah, Jaqs you're killing me here. I'm crushed."

"I couldn't crush you with a 747." Moving back she handed him the magnifying glass and let him take a look. "Though I've heard someone's tried."

Peering down at the print, Greg snorted. "That's the only thing they haven ' t tried. Good whorls, " he noted in satisfaction. "And what's this? A loop? Sweet."

"So it's true?" Pulling him around, Jacqui questioned, "Someone's really after you?"

Greg shrugged, a little uncomfortable talking about it. "Grissom seems to think so."

"Who would want to hurt you?" Jacqui scoffed. "No offense honey, but you' re about as threatening as a three day old kitten."

"Ah but I am," he refuted. Head tilting and grinning he clarified, just for the record mind you, "A threat, not a three day old kitten."

"Well...ok, to Hodges maybe," the tech snickered. So she didn‘t like him. She figured it was hardly a secret. If the man spent as much energy in doing his job as he does trying to impress Grissom...

"I'm a strange breed, Jaq," Greg sighed, the former bright enthusiasm now tight and lacking genuine humor. She couldn't help but notice he had been more serious lately, wit more brittle than his usual soft good humor. He looked tired. "Between lab and field work - neither fish nor fowl. I'm an anomaly; most people around here don't know what to think of me anymore. Or want to think of me anymore."

Not knowing what to say to that, other than "huh", and deciding that telling him he was full of shit lacked a certain tact, the tech just shook her head, handing him her report..

"So... I walk the line. Thanks for the info, m'lady." he intoned mock-grave tone sober and at odds with his smile, bowing out of her lab.

"That's just great. You jerk!" Jacqui smacked him before he could make good his escape. "Now I'm going to have that Johnny Cash tune stuck in my head all day!"

* * * * *

"Greg!" Running up to the figure huddled outside the DNA lab, Sara, pulled him further away from the thick white smoke billowing out from the open doorway. "Somebody call an ambulance!" No explosions or broken glass this time, thank god.

"No. No I‘m..." pulling away weakly, Greg coughed, "I'm ok...I'm ok..."

"You sure?" Sara turned back down the hall, only to catch a couple maintenance workers before they could douse the lab with fire extinguishers, thereby ruining any evidence they may have. "No. Don‘t. We don‘t know what‘s in there."

"Greg!"

Spotting the older man running down the hall, dodging gawkers and ignoring the smoke all together, he was able to give Grissom a weak wave. "You ok?" Grissom's eyes bore into his, giving him a once over.

He started to answer again that he was fine when the world tilted and he found himself being eased down the wall to sit on the floor. His one irreverent thought was that the older man must have some muscles under all those clothes. That and why was the lab spinning? "Here, sit. The paramedics are on their way."

Greg found he could only nod, looking miserably at what was - once again - the shambles of his DNA lab.

* * * * *

"Hey Grissom, you get anything off that trash can from Greg's desk?"

"No. Totally void of prints."

"You're kidding?" Nick sighed, leaning against the counter beside Gil, close enough to touch but not. When Nick had found out about the latest incident - some kind of smoke bomb set to react with chemical components dumped into Greg‘s trash can - the man had been furious; going so far as to ride with Greg in the ambulance to the hospital to make sure he checked ok, and that none of the fumes had been toxic. "Not even janitorial staff?"

"None," the older CSI confirmed, slapping his glasses down in frustration. Rubbing his eyes, Grissom told himself not to follow the frames with his head. He was already fighting off a migraine. "Wiped clean. Not even Greg's were on it."

"*Damn* it," Nick growled, frown pinching the squared features in a scowl. "You know what that means."

"Yeah," Grissom sighed, blue eyes once again firmly behind their glass lenses as he resumed his search. "Back to square one. And Greg‘s attacker is still out there."

"And now he's found a way to get at Greg inside CSI."

Suddenly Gil looked back up from processing the next batch of slides. "That' s it." The scowl now replaced with an expression of shock. "I know who's after Greg."

* * * * *

"Hey Greggo, wait up!"

Waiting for Nick making his way down the hall slowing down from a mild jog, Greg leaned against the wall out of the way. Suddenly there seemed to be a million techs wanting around him, Sara and Catherine included, as he stood cradling his broken arm from an accidental brush by.

"Hey Cath, Sara," Nick nodded, taking the injured arm by the elbow and herding Greg back the way he came and ultimately out the back door. "I know you' ve been released from the hospital but Grissom doesn't want you heading home alone tonight. He thought he might have found something, but turned out to be a dead end."

"Really?" Greg perked up, interested. "Trash can or car?"

"Trash can. No prints, wiped clean."

Greg frowned. "Someone knows what they're doing."

"We think so, yeah. We also thought you might want to come over for dinner?" Nick asked, shooting him a glance. "There's something we want to talk to you about."

"That why you're dragging me back out to the parking lot rather than allowing me to sacrifice myself to the gods of overtime?"

The Texan chuckled. "Something like that."

"Well, that depends," Greg grinned. Teasing, he pretended to drag his feet. "You cooking?"

It was worth it to see that mock glare as Stokes dug for his keys. "Hey I' ll have you know I make a mean chili."

"Mean being the operative word here, Nick. You forget I've had your chili."

Nick glared, pretended dignity but didn't comment. "It's Gil's night to cook." He ignored the obviously faked sigh of relief. "You better be nice, Greggo," he warned with a smile. "Your next eval is in a couple weeks. I could convince Grissom to let me take you in the field. You know, the best way to teach you all about the fine art of dumpster diving is to have the trainee do it."

"Okay, I'll behave." Giving in graciously, the shrug turned into a backwards look at his rental car as Nick steered him over to the Bronco. "I can drive you know."

"I know. But do *you* know where Grissom lives?"

"Good point. I could follow you." Though the Jetta was still in impound, held over for evidence, the insurance company had wasted no time in getting him a nifty little Beatle Bug to drive. Even after finding out the fuel line on his last car had been cut. Shame he couldn't have talked them into a nice electric orange...uniform gray was so boring. At least silver of his Jetta had the advantage of looking distinguished.

Tugging gently on the sling, Nick shook his head. "Don't want to take any chances, if you catch my drift?"

"Caught," he nodded and headed around the hood to the other side. "Gotcha. The stump jumper it is."

"Greg?" Nick's eyebrow raised, favoring him from the driver's seat, engine rumbling solidly to life. "Not a good idea to insult a man's truck."

* * * * *

He had expected dinner, maybe a few hours of pleasant company. He hadn't expected to be attacked the moment he walked in the door. Apparently neither had Nick.

"Have a good time sabotaging your own career, Sanders?"

"Grissom, what - ?"

"It's been Greg all along, Nick." Grissom told him, never taking his eyes off the young tech. The hadn't even gotten as far as the living room before Grissom had confronted them.

"What?" Shocked, Nick looked between them.

"I figured it out this afternoon. But I couldn't believe it so I double checked a few things. No prints were there should have been at least Greg ‘s."

"But you said they were wiped clean..."

"That's right, they were." Turning from his lover to Greg, standing unsure and stunned in the middle of the entry hall, Grissom asked again, "Well, what do you have to say for yourself? Other than you were obviously bucking for another job. What's the matter? We weren't running through new CSI's in the field fast enough? After Holly you wanted to be the second death on our collective conscience?"

Greg had blanched pure white. "I..."

"Gil..." Nick warned.

But Grissom was having none of it.

"The Mulberry's rock wall? Your own car?" Gil ground out, angrier than Greg had ever seen him. Angrier than after the whole Nigel Crane thing. Angrier even than when he demanded Greg put everything else aside and find Zachary Anderson's killer; the infant that had been found smothered and wrapped in a blanket. Even going so far as to physically swipe all of Ecklie's collected samples off the little metal cart and placing his own evidence in it's place. At the time Greg had been too stunned to move, responding more to the pain hiding deep behind the glittering blue eyes than to the actual command...but now...

With a start Greg realized Grissom's fists were clenched tightly at his side. As if to keep them from lashing out... "The so called mugging? The trash can at CSI? Wasn't one lab explosion enough for you?"

* * * * *

"Wasn't one lab explosion enough for you?"

Greg flinched; that one *hurt*. Grissom might as well have hit him for all the impact that last one had on him. The guilt crashed down then, the memory of worried looks and haunted eyes... "I...Grissom..."

"Damnit Greg what were you trying to do?" Gil demanded. "Get yourself killed?"

"No!" The protest was torn out of him. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted...he wanted... "No! I just...I mean I...." He was surprised to find himself shaking.

Surprised to find tears threatening to spill, both for the accusations as well as the weeks, months of unfair abuse from both sides that had started this whole thing. The taunts and whispers and mean things left where he would find them, all in the guise of harmless pranks. If not accusing him of being a traitor then calling him a wannabe...

It had started out as an accident; the wall that had given way with him on it and Brass and the others giving him a good natured hard time about it. Which was different than the hard time they *had* been giving him. It had just gotten out of hand. Like a rock rolling downhill, building on it's own momentum and running over anything in it's path. The mugging, the trash can, the car...

He hadn't meant to hurt anyone.

Now if the techs and the CSI's weren't ignoring him they walked on eggshells around him. Treated him as if he were either too fragile to be left alone or too jinxed to be around. Except for the night shift. Mostly.

Except for Nick and Grissom.

That they could think he would really want to kill himself...it was too much. It was all too much. He had to get out of there before he told them everything. All the reasons why...

There was a reason he had been both elated and terrified that it had been Grissom and Nick that stayed on his case. Like burrs on a blanket, as Papa Olaf liked to say.

It meant they still cared about him. It also meant they might find something.

And now it meant he was out of a job. Both of them. And all of his friends. Two of which he had selfishly fantasized as being more than just friends...

But now Grissom - which also meant Nick - surely hated him. He *knew* what Grissom thought of suicides. Called it the coward's way out. One step below murder and since the victim was the self that somehow made it that much worse. "You wouldn't understand." He turned, started to leave.

Only to find Nick standing against the door, barring his way. No matter how shocked he had been walking in, Nick wasn‘t about to let Greg walk out. Not like this. "We wouldn't?"

"No. Everyone loves *you*," Greg spat out petulantly, unable to keep the venom inside where it belonged. He fought it back with a watery glare. Before he said more than he should. More than he had. Didn‘t matter anyway. Even if they didn't know why, they knew enough. "Now move, Stokes." If he hadn' t been so tied in knots the incredulous look on Nick's face might have been funny.

"Ummm...." he watched as Nick thought about it. "No."

"Just tell us why, Greg," Grissom pleaded from behind him, sounding tired. "Why would you put us through this? After - " He cut himself off abruptly, wincing. But Greg already knew what he had been about to say. Because he had already said it once.

And all of the anger rushed out of him, leaving him just as tired, just as defeated. "After the explosion?" *Because you promised you'd take care of me.* But he couldn't say that. That was just a bit too pathetic, even for him.

Unable to stand any longer without falling on his nose, Greg moved over to the nearest chair, an over-stuffed wingback - from the style and worn condition, a part of him not on autopilot figured it must be Nick's - and dropped down into it. That and fact the that the throw with the southwestern motive was a dead giveaway.

The cat was well out of the bag now. He was going to tell them, so why delay the inevitable. Maybe if he did a good enough job of the telling they'd be so disgusted with him they would let him leave, resign and waste away in peace. "After I woke up in the hospital and all of my friends actually seemed happy that I survived? That I was still around? That after?"

"So it *is* true? Jesus, Greg." He was surprised to find Nick had dropped down beside him on the floor. Still between him and the door though no longer guarding it, one hand holding on to the leather arm of the chair. So close it almost touched his knee. Eyes burning and blurred, Greg had never saw him move. "Is that what you think? That we don't want you around?"

"I don't know." Eyes that had lowered now raised; the half-hearted attempt at a rally not enough to actually look either of them in the eye. It would be so much easier not to see the accusations there. The pity there. "Maybe. Isn't it?"

"No, Greg. It‘s not." Grissom spoke from where he stood, anger laced and not quite overridden by the exasperation he wasn't trying tried to hide. "Greg, don't you get it?"

"I get a lot of things. What's not to get?"

"No apparently you don't." Nick scolded him. "Greg we care about you. The whole fucking *lab* cares about you."

"Yeah well maybe I'm so fucking *tired* of caring what the whole fucking *lab* thinks!" Now his eyes rose to meet Nick's head on. Anger was good, anger was so much easier...

And true to form, that meant Grissom changed tone again. "The whole lab, Greg?"

*That* voice. The tone, soft and speculative that said Grissom had figured out something about the puzzle that was Greg Sanders that he hadn't known before.

A piece Greg was pretty sure he had been better off with Grissom not knowing about.

So hold on to the anger. The best offense being a good defense... "Face it, the techs all think I'm a traitor and hassle me. The CSI's think I'm a waste of time and barely tolerate me in the field. Too many questions. So, yeah, pretty much the whole lab."

"No, Greg." Suddenly Grissom was close, too close. One hand cupped under his chin, warm and solid raising his eyes to meet Gil's. "Not the whole lab. Not us."

He tried to say something and found he couldn't. Because what was staring at him now wasn't anger or pity or disappointment. Not even close.

"Ummm...."

"I'm kinda glad not everyone loves you, Greggo," Nick told him, grinning that shy Texan‘s smile. "Leaves more of you for us."

"More for..." Head snapping up, Greg searched them both, pretty sure what was being offered here was exactly what he wanted. But now? After everything? Still, he couldn't help the optimistic little, "Really?"

"Really." And now that hand wasn't on the leather of the chair but the denim of his jeans, fingers *just* playing with the rip over his knee, tracing skin and bone.

Grissom shrugged and smiled. Despite the pain still in his eyes, it was a sweet, almost boyish smile that clutched at his heart. "Call me greedy."

"Greedy," Greg nodded agreeably and, feeling a wild kind of kamikaze thrill, leaned in, pulling Gil down for his first kiss.

* * * * *

Their first kiss was sweet and shy; hesitant almost. Their lips clinging together before inevitably pulling apart. At that moment Grissom cleared his throat and attempted a somewhat stern, "Which isn't to say we won't be discussing this again, in more detail, mind you."

"But later," Nick added and Grissom agreed.

"Later. Right now..."

"Right now I want to play with my new toy." Nick said, grinning as his fingers toyed with the thread of Greg's jeans.

"Oh I'm your toy now, am I?" Greg grinned, eyebrows raised. He couldn't believe this was happening. That they wanted him...

"Mmmhmm." Nick leaned up and over and kissed him, one hand on his thigh, the other cupping the back of his head. "Our very own CSI wannabe action figure."

"You gonna remove the wrapping?" Greg grinned, head still spinning in giddy elation, his mind going a mile a minute, just a bit slower than his heart.

"Oh you bet."

Gil smirked. "Nicky I think it's time we go put our action figure away where it belongs."

"Where might that be?" Greg smiling, going along.

Those dark, dark eyes were so serious when Nick avowed, "In our bed. In our lives. In our arms."

"I think I can live with that." Softer, Greg was still smiling. He wasn't aware he was crying until Gil pulled him up, wiping away his tears as Nick stood and wrapped his arms around him.

"We hoped you might."

"This was what you wanted to talk about?" Greg asked, mouth opening in surprise, allowing Grissom the perfect opportunity to dive in for another kiss.

"Mmhmm."

"Wow."

Oh he loved that little Grissom chuff of laughter. Especially when it was given against his neck, just above the curve of his shoulder, under his ear. "Yeah wow, " Grissom agreed. Greg shivered when Gil tongued that spot. "Before I went and got angry and almost ruined it."

"Well," Greg murmured thoughtfully, skirting the issue, "an angry Grissom is a sexy Grissom." Another snort, this time from both men though he could tell Nick at least agreed with him. "You know..." Shaky now, Greg's voice trembled, breath coming out in a sigh as he felt Nick nosing along the same path on the other side. "As an action figure..." He gasped, his mouth open in pants to draw in much needed air. Nick was kissing his jaw under his other ear, teeth coming up to catch at the lobe. "...I *am* fully posable."

"Really?"

"Oh!...yeah." Gil's mouth attacking gently in tandem with Nick's, Greg arched into their touch, both sets of hands gliding over his arms. Enjoying the thrumming in his blood; the feeling of being held between two equally strong bodies. "Double jointed actually."

Gil‘s smile into his skin was positively evil. "That's good to know."

Working their way into the back without ever letting him go, Gil and Nick took turns between kissing and undressing their new lover, one piece of clothing at a time, making sure to take extra care with the sling. Pushed down on the bed, naked except for that sling and the cast on that arm, Greg asserted with a blushing leer, "Anatomically correct." A thought then occurred to him and he grinned up with a quirky snicker, "Which, given our most recent case..."

"Greg?" Nick warned, laughter in his eyes while his lips pursed in a disapproving frown. "Let's not go there, ok?"

"Well, I know Greg is glad he has a penis and you know I happen to be interested in his ass, so..." Gil chuckled.

Nick couldn't help but laugh and Greg kinda wondered just what he missed when those two went out to the trannie bar.

"I for one would rather be here."

"And here you are," Gil smirked, leaning over him and stealing a kiss.

Greg couldn't stop the moan as Grissom's clothed body came into contact with his naked skin. He forgot all about mutilated bodies and the transgendered and did something he had long wanted to do - he buried his hands in those lovely salt and pepper curls and used the fact that he had the leverage to deepen the kiss, pulling Grissom down until the older man rested on top of him.

"You have too many clothes on," he told him.

"In due time," Gil smirked, his own hands shifting through Greg's hair. Scattered and in no particular placement, the white-blond highlights slipped through his fingers, making him smile. Unexpected and in no recognizably predictable pattern he could see; just like their Greg. "We plan on ravishing you, tonight," Gil told him, fingers moving down to stroke the fine bones of his face, the soft fullness of his lips.

Eyes lowered shyly, Greg answered, "I really don't have a problem with that." Something occurred to him then and he blushed. "It's just that I' m hmm...I mean I just...you need to know that I..."

Laying on the bed beside the tech who had turned an interesting shade of day-glow red, Nick grinned, head propped up on one hand, the fingers of his other lightly tracing, circling the bare shoulder.

With an embarrassed groan, Greg fell back against the pillows, sighing, melting into Nick's touch. Trying not to laugh and shaking back frustrated tears. "This is so not how I imagined confessing this..."

Eyebrows raised, Grissom shifted off to the other side, realizing this might be something needing discussion. Still resting, hovering against Greg, Gil kept rubbing his leg in a soothing rhythm. "What Greg? What is it you feel you need to confess?"

"I haven't...I've never...." He blew out a breath. "Aw, hell. The rumor around the lab? About me being a virgin until I was 22? That‘s not exactly...accurate." Holding both pairs of eyes he dared them both to laugh. "More like 27."

"27?" Nick repeated, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, more like right now."

"You mean with men, right?"

"With anyone, Stokes. And I swear if you laugh, I'm hitting you with this cast."

The startled look on Grissom's face was too funny. Stunned and a little fearful. Like someone had just given him a newly hatched chick and told him not to drop it. Or maybe a three day old kitten.

"You...Greg..."

"I swear to god Grissom if you say anything other that's it's an honor and you want to make the earth move for me..." Greg frowned, and swore, only half joking.

"It's an honor," Slowly descending, Gil's lips touched Greg's, stilling them softly. Pressing a little harder, he moved up to include equally chaste kiss to both eyes, his nose and forehead, breathing deeply. "And the earth will move, I promise."

"Good." Emotional overload. "That's good. Now? Can it move now?"

"It's gonna move right now," Nick told him firmly. "Grissom I think we're a bit overdressed."

"I think you're right," Gil agreed. "But first..." He kissed Greg thoroughly, making sure to catch the brown eyes when they opened again. "I think Greg needs a little bit of attention."

Working his way down, Gil didn't tease; just licked and nipped in a sure line down between the parted thighs, splayed open in reflex for the questing mouth as it moved lower. Reaching his goal, Gil held Greg's legs apart, hands stroking and kneading gently and took his cock into his mouth, sucking softly.

Nick chuckled at Greg's helpless cry. Moving closer, careful to avoid leaning on the injured arm, Nick nuzzled his jaw, fingers stroking his chest, soothing the shivers and whispering in his ear. "We have all night Greg. Just let go."

Too much, too fast his orgasm hit him then, tearing a surprised and strangled scream from him. Lying there panting he gradually became aware of Nick's fingers still petting him; of Gil's hands, one on his other leg, one again playing, shifting through his hair. The man himself had moved back up and once more lay pressed on his other side. He could melt right now and die a happy man.

"Well?" Nick's voice chuckled in his ear.

"Off the Richter," he managed, grinning himself at Gil's smug little hum. He himself had this sappy, satiated smile on his face, Greg just knew it.

"Ready for round two?"

A small groan was his answer, swallowed by Nick's kiss, Greg eagerly following Grissom's urging and rolling over onto the lean hard body. When he came back up for air, Gil was already undressed. Frowning a little at missing the older man undressing, the view more than made up for it. First thing Greg needed to do was get the man some more flattering clothes. He stifled the giggle imagining the look on Gil's face at the thought of Greg picking out his clothes.

He was beautiful. Strong legs, strong arms, compact body just showing a little pudge in the middle...the perfect contrast for Nick who Greg knew from locker room changings was more of a hard body. Lean and not an ounce of fat on him, Nick's muscles were more sharply defined while Gil's held a softer curve...

"Maybe I should have fed you first..." The teasing voice brought Greg out of his comparisons, Gil's color up at the frank appreciation he could see in his new lover's eyes. "We did invite you over for dinner."

"Feed me later," Greg advised. "I think I need to build up my appetite first." Favoring Nick with that same hungry appraisal, Greg demanded, "Your turn."

Nick only nipped his nose, moving off the bed to stand at the foot while Grissom took his place. Chuckling Gil settled back against the headboard, pulling Greg into his arms, the young man determined not to miss this. "You keep looking at him like that, Nicky's going to break the land speed record for taking off his clothes."

Never taking his eyes off the dark haired man bending back up from removing his shoes, hands on the buttons of his jeans, Greg didn‘t miss the blush that now stained his face, down his neck. "And this would be a bad thing how?"

"Good point."

Nick glared through his blush, turning the rest of his strip around. Both men laughed and Nick responded by shaking his ass as his jeans were removed, throwing a come hither look over his shoulder with a chuckle. Climbing back up the bed in only his shirt, opened from neck to navel, he claimed first Greg' s and then Gil's lips in a passionate kiss. Straddling their legs, Nick removed that last article of clothing, making sure to maintain eye contact the whole time. Greg's mouth was open and Gil's eyes were dark with lust and love.

"Where do you want me?" Nick asked, deliberately using Greg's words from so long ago.

Gil's gaze rolled over him in a warm, solid heat. "Greg's not the only one who's hungry tonight, is he?"

"Ah, no," Nick admitted, leaning into the hand that caressed his cheek.

"I didn't think so. Under Greg, opened up. " Shifting from under Greg, Gil ordered, "Move up Greg and let Nick lie down. Good, now you straddle him - good." Moving to settle in behind Greg, Grissom rubbed hands down his arms before folding his arms around him, chin resting on Greg's shoulder. "You' re going to take Nick while I take you," the warm rumble washed over him, sending a terrified, excited tingle down to his stomach. "Think you can handle that?"

His head fell back onto the shoulder of the man holding him, feeling every nerve and tingle of arousal double at the image that flashed into his head at those words. "God, yes. Nick?"

"Oh yeah." Reaching up, Nick's rough fingers skimmed over his chest, running down his sides and back up. Opening his eyes, Greg saw that Nick's were heavy lidded, dark and fuzzy with passion and interest. "I want you Greg."

The lube retrieved from the dresser, Gil pressed close behind Greg, all presence and banked heat. Whispering lewd things in his ear, instructions on how to play with Nick, to get him ready for Greg, all the while putting actions to words on Greg; fingers sliding and twisting inside him with pleasurable intensity.

Greg shuddered and rocked with the fullness; feeling Nick doing the same under him, the soft hitches of breath and shudders notching the pleasure up that much higher. When Grissom kissed his neck with one last twist and removed his fingers, Greg knew what was coming. Following Gil's instructions, Greg slowly pushed inside Nick first, a visceral part of him leaping at the small cry turned moan as he slid all the way in.

He nodded at the whispered, "ready?" feeling Nick's fingers tangle in his. Holding on to those dark eyes his own slowly closed as he felt himself being forced open, a little bit at a time. Lost in the burn he bit his lip, felt Nick's fingers tighten but didn't open his eyes. In time the discomfort faded, leaving only the fullness inside his body and the pleasurable squeeze of Nick's body around him.

"Greg...move." Nick‘s gasp and shift opened his eyes. Head thrown back, he had bitten his lip, the hand not tangled in his, holding on to his good arm where Greg braced himself on the mattress. An experimental rocking of Greg 's hip brought a moan from all three of them and Greg gasped, starting up an uncertain rhythm that grew in confidence and strength and Grissom steadied him, Nick wrapping his legs around them both and holding on.

It wasn't long until all three were falling headlong into oblivion together, one strangled scream of the others name shortly after another.

* * * * *

Epilog...

"So that's it." Looking up from his case notes, Gil Grissom took off his glasses, and addressed his people. "It's been two months and nothing more as been found out about whoever it was pulling those pranks on Greg."

"Pranks?" Warrick asked, slouched in his chair, pen tapping against the table top. "You mean no one was out to get our Gregster?" There was still a bit of anger there, Warrick no doubt remembering the frantic trip out to the hospital after Greg's car ran off the road.

Grissom shrugged and closed the file. "It's looking more like a case of pranks that got out of hand. All leads have been exhausted and with no new incidents, we don't have much to go on."

"Do you expect any further attempts at what passes for humor?" Sara put in, twist to her lips telling them she was just glad it was all over. That now maybe life could get back to normal.

The morning after, the three men had a nice long talk about Greg's actions over Nick's Texas omelets, deciding that they would close the file as unsolved. None of the others needed to know Greg had been sabotaging himself; especially not about the cut brake lines or the trash can at the lab. It would do more harm than good and Greg had sworn to never do it again. Gil and Nick had privately swore he would never have reason to.

"Honestly?" Grissom shook his head. "Not really, no. I think whoever it was got the message that we don't take kindly to anyone messing with our CSIs."

"It's about time - wait." That brought an out and out smile on the brunette' s face. "Greg passed his level one evaluation."

"Yesterday," Nick confirmed, an equally broad smile on his.

Sara snickered at that look. "You took him dumpster diving?"

The Level Three laughed. "*Oh* yeah."

"You're an evil man, Nick Stokes," Catherine chided, head shaking at the antics of some of the male members of CSI.

Nick only shrugged and traded a glance with Warrick, both men bumping fists. "It's tradition."

"Don't let Greg hear you say that," Grissom advised. "He should be here any minute. I had him take the Burnett samples to Hodges in Trace."

Greg was now truly one of them. All around the table smiles broke out - and if anyone noticed that two of them were just a little brighter than the others, noone made comment.

* * * * *

Dropping off Grissom's evidence baggies, Greg nodded at Hodges. "These are from Grissom."

"So, " Hodges asked, giving Greg the eye before he could make good his escape. The normally holier than thou droll tone was heavy with knowledge and amusement. Strangely enough though not unkind. "You find your niche yet?"

Greg only stared at him in surprise before feeling a smile spread across his face. Hodges had known all along and hadn't told anyone. Not even Grissom. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

"Yeah. Yeah I have." Greg nodded.

"Good."

Turning back, one hand on the doorframe, Greg spoke, "Hey Hodges? Thanks."

Only to receive the techs usual irritated wave, "yeah, yeah...", attention already focused back down his scope.

Turning back down towards the break room humming, already anticipating his first official assignment, Greg found himself grinning, smile wrapped around his face and not caring.

"Because you're mine....I walk the line..."

End