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2020-11-04
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Changing Places

Summary:

Greg has wanted to be in the field for so long, but how do the others feel about that?

Work Text:

Changing Places
by Sidhewolf

He had been so excited.

For a year now, Greg Sanders felt like he had been walking a tightrope, balanced between two worlds. On one side was the world of the DNA lab, neat and tidy and comfortable. Everything in his lab had it's place. He could put his hands on anything in the lab within a moment of realizing he needed it.

But on the opposite side of that tightrope was the world of field work. And that was a world very different from his safe and secure lab. Things in the field were exciting, chaotic and often even a little dangerous. The call to field work had pulled at Greg like the growing tickle of a reluctant sneeze.

He really wanted to be able to go into the field. He wanted to try and see if he could be as good in the world outside the lab as he was in his own small, safe laboratory environment.

And when Gil Grissom had finally agreed to let him work in the field if he could find a worthy replacement, Greg had been thrilled. It was not until after his shift was over that night that he began to realize the difficulties in satisfying Grissom's ultimatum.

Greg had never thought of himself as a conceited person. He knew he was good at lab procedures. He really had enjoyed the work, and the leniency he had been given in the lab had always made his work satisfying until recently. But now that he was being forced to find someone who could do lab work as well as he could, Greg realized that it might be a far more difficult assignment than he had expected.

And then the answer to his problem had simply been tossed into his waiting arms - Sara Sidle.

Sara had been picked up by the Las Vegas PD on a DUI.

Well, not really picked up, but merely detained. The officer on the scene had given her some slack, owing to the fact that the legal limit had just been reduced and she had exceeded it only a tiny fraction. Of course, the fact that he knew she worked in the crime lab probably saved her from an arrest and immediate dismissal.

Grissom, as Sara's supervisor, had been called. He had realized that some type of discipline would be necessary before Sara could again perform the duties of an in-field CSI agent. So, without even looking for a replacement, Greg had been given Sara, who was both embarrassed by her mistake and devastated by her reassignment in the lab.

Sara did not want to work in the lab. She had always enjoyed doing the basic lab work on her own cases, but when she had been reduced to only seeing a case through it's chemical components, she had become bitter and angry.

At first, Greg had been too excited about his own entrance into field work to pay much attention to anything Sara Sidle was doing or how she was feeling. For over a year, Greg had spent extra hours taking classes in crime scene investigation techniques. He had even persuaded Nick, Warrick and Catherine to show him some of the tricks of the trade. And when he had finally been able to begin crime scene processing, Greg had been thrilled.

His own natural excitement had been one of the first things to cause problems between him and his peers. Everything Greg did outside of the lab now was new and different and so exciting that he had trouble hiding the fact that he was enjoying field work. He was excited about learning new things, and humble enough to know that the other members of the CSI staff knew more than he did.

Greg welcomed any constructive criticism. He knew he had a lot to learn about crime scene investigation, and he accepted any help that the others could give him in learning. All new knowledge was precious to him. He made a point to listen, watch and learn. He asked questions and welcomed any answer he was given. However, often his questions were met with scowls and he began to feel hesitant in asking them.

Both Warrick and Nick seemed loath to even work with him. The disgruntled expressions on their faces when he was assigned with them on an investigation were impossible to miss, even for an over-enthusiastic Greg. This especially bothered Greg where Nick was concerned.

Greg had always felt especially vulnerable around Nick Stokes. Experimentally, he had often tried to flirt with Nick, just to see if there was any spark in return. And several times, he felt that there had been. But now that Nick was occasionally in charge of his field training, Greg was treated only with caution and never with the closeness that had been a part of their relationship before.

Only Catherine seemed to welcome him into the group of CSI personnel. She always gave Greg extra instructions and showed him the little things which invariably helped him understand how important collection and tagging of evidence could be at a crime scene. She impressed on him the necessity of meticulous detail and likened it to his work in the lab, immediately helping him to make the connection to the importance of really looking as things while collecting evidence.

But the continued reluctance of Warrick, and even Nick, to let him work with them puzzled Greg. He would have called them both friends before he became an apprentice CSI. He and Nick had often gone together after work for a breakfast before heading to their homes for some sleep. Warrick had never been that close, but there had never been any problems between the two of them either. Greg had felt that both Nick and Warrick were very good investigators, well worth learning from in the field. And his feelings for Nick now seemed as if they had been extinguished before they ever had a chance to ignite into anything more than flirtations.

Now, when Grissom would assign them their cases for the night, Greg found himself being increasingly uneasy about who he would be working with on an investigation. He knew that he was getting to a point where he was starting to make absurd mistakes simply because he was nervous about how Nick or Warrick seemed to react to his presence. The more critical they became of his work, the more mistakes he seemed to make.

And then he finally realized why there was such an uneasy feeling. It had happened quite by accident one night right before Grissom gave out assignments. Greg had been free for a moment, having just finished running several samples of hair through the microscope to see if they could be matched to hair found on one of their victims. Heading for the lounge, he intended to grab an apple which he had left in the refrigerator. Lately, most of his meals had been either a piece of fruit or a cup of yogurt. He hadn't had time to sit around and eat more than that.

As he was heading toward the lounge, he smiled to hear voices coming from that direction. Even though he had started to feel a little uncomfortable around his old friends, he continued to try and renew the old comradery which he knew must still be there. Maybe now, when things were quiet and there was time to relax for a moment, he could try to rebuild some of the lighter moments he really missed between them all.

He pasted a smile on his face as he neared the room. But suddenly he stopped as the words in the conversation became clearer.

"We all really miss you, Sara. I think if I have to work with him for one more minute, I'll go crazy. He is driving me up a wall. Question, questions, nothing but questions. It's like having to do my own work and his, too. I really miss working with someone who knows what they're doing."

"Yeah, I know, Warrick. I don't think I could imagine a worse kind of purgatory than having to work with him day in and day out. But, take heart. I'm almost finished with the program they sent me to for my...little problem. Before long, I'll bet I'm back with you guys out there in the field and then maybe he'll be back in the lab where he belongs."

Greg froze in place. It seemed that all the breath left his body in one whoosh. He could even feel the blood drain from his face. *Oh, God. They were talking about me.*

Greg couldn't force himself to continue into the room. Any hunger he might have had vanished with the spiteful words. He turned and nearly ran into Nick, who had come upon him from behind as he stood listening.

"Hey!" he warned as Greg fled silently. "Watch where you're going."

Mumbling an apology, Greg continued down the hall. Before he realized where he was heading, he found himself in his lab. This was not the first time he had returned to the lab since entering his CSI field training. But it was the first time that he had felt its security and safety envelope him like this. Always before, it had felt stifling and restraining. Now it felt like a welcome friend, embracing him with safety and protection. He walked around, really looking at how things had changed since Sara had taken his place.

Little things had changed. The pipettes had been changed to a different location. Several of the chemicals he had used more often than others were rearranged. There were no big differences, but the small changes were enough to make him feel sad and a little forlorn. He drew a deep breath and was surprised to feel it catch in his throat. Maybe he really would never be able to take Sara's place. Maybe he really should return to the lab and do what everyone said he was good at doing.

But Greg had never wanted to take Sara's place. All he had wanted was a chance to get out and see what the world outside the lab had to offer. Looking back over the past few months and his faltering attempts to become part of the CSI team, he wondered if there had ever been any hope for him to succeed in such a venture.

But he had no chance to ponder the question. Catherine was passing the lab and called for him to join her as she and the others got their nightly assignments. Greg's stomach knotted. He really didn't think he could handle going out with Warrick, or even Nick, tonight. And thankfully, Grissom assigned him to go with Catherine as she investigated a death in the suburbs of Las Vegas.

As the two drove toward the scene, Catherine glanced at her unusually quiet passenger.

"Greg, is everything all right? You're awfully quiet tonight."

Looking down at hands that were clinched in his lap, Greg drew another deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Sure, Cath. Just doing some thinking."

"About the job?" Catherine was always very perceptive. Whether it was because she was a mother, or because she had been around long enough to catch the small things that went on behind many people's backs, she always seemed to be the person who could instinctively tell when he was bothered about something.

"Yeah." Greg's answer was a sigh, and Catherine glanced at him, concern in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Greg? You're doing a great job. You have to remember that this is totally new for you. I know you've been through the training. I know you spent a big part of your free time taking classes before you got assigned to field work, so that you would be knowledgeable about what goes on out in the field. Grissom knows it, too. And you've been doing a great job for a beginner. So what's got you so down?"

Greg sighed, then glanced at Catherine.

"Cath, when I was in high school, there was this big chess tournament once. It was one of those tournaments that was really a big deal, but I wasn't planning on entering for our team. I was the captain of the chess team, but this particular tourney was being held during one of the most important chem exams that I had, and so I asked one of the other members of the team if she would take my place. She was a good player and I really felt like she would do fine.

"Well, as soon as the other members of the team found out about it, they went to my chem professor, without my knowledge, and made arrangements with him for me to take the test at a different time, so I could participate in the chess tournament. When the girl I had asked to take my place found out how the team felt about her, she dropped out of the chess club and never returned.

"You know, Cath, she was a really good player. But if she had entered that tournament with the lack of support the team had for her, there is no way she would have had a chance to win."

Catherine continued to drive for a moment, but her silence showed how stunned she was at Greg's words. "Greg, has anyone said anything to you about your switch from the lab to field work?"

Greg was silent as the Suburban pulled into the drive of the crime scene. "They didn't have to, Cath," he said, and opened the door.

Catherine watched his retreating figure as he went to the back to get his kit. She shook her head and then opened her own door and joined him as they entered the house.

Jim Brass stood at the front door. "Looks like a nasty one," he said. "Girl, in her twenties. Looks like she was raped and beaten. The postman saw her lying on the floor when he came to the door to deliver a package and he called 911." Brass indicated the body which lay in plain sight of the front door. David was already there, so they approached and knelt beside the still form.

"What have you got for us, David," Catherine asked.

"Looks like she's been dead for a couple of hours. From the look of things, she was raped repeatedly and then beaten to death with a hard object."

Catherine turned the girl's face with her gloved hand so that Greg could better see the odd marks along her cheek bone. "Greg, see this?"

Intently, Greg hovered over the body.

"I believe these marks on her face where caused by brass knuckles. They leave this distinctive print on the skin when they're used. Why don't you get some pictures of the premises while I process the body. Then we'll go over what we've found together."

Greg busied himself for the next half hour with taking pictures of the house. He returned to the living room to find Catherine gone and David packing up to return to the coroner's lab.

"Where's Catherine," Greg asked as David started toward the door.

"Umm, I think I saw her heading out toward the back yard."

"Thanks."

Still holding his camera, Greg walked through the kitchen and peered out the back door. The back yard was not filled with as many police as the front, and when he looked further, into what might be an adjoining park, he could see a small building, nearly hidden in a group of trees. Intrigued, he left the house and walked purposefully toward the small shelter.

As he approached, the animated sounds of the crime scene behind him faded and the hairs at the back of his neck rose. Something seemed very wrong. The small shed sat well away from the house, surrounded by trees. The murky light, which was all that was left as the sun dipping below the horizon, made the place seem forbidding.

He approached the closed door and looked at it. Spider webs surrounded the entrance, but they were broken and scattered, showing the door had been opened recently.

"Cath?" he said, but his words seemed loud in the silence that surrounded the small shack.

Reaching out, Greg pushed the door opened a little. "Cath?" he repeated.

Still no answer.

Slowly, he stepped into the small building. He had just turned on the pen light which they all carried, trying to get some illumination of the dark interior, when a vibration, a movement of air which felt wrong, caused him to whirl toward the left.

He heard a small moan of warning and then there was a agonizing burst of pain in his right shoulder as a metal object smashed into a spot between his neck and his shoulder. He heard the crack of bone, and a cry of pain burst from his throat.

Grabbing for his shoulder and ducking his head in an attempt at gaining some sort of protection, Greg's knees buckled and he fell to the wooden floor of the small room in a kneeling position. His pen light, lost when his arm had been numbed by the blow, rolled across the floor to show Catherine, lying in a corner, bruises swelling her cheek and her mouth covered by something that looked like electrical tape.

There was a metallic clank in front of him, as if someone had dropped an object, and then he felt sharp metal knuckles connect with the side of his face. Rolling forward, Greg curled into a fetal position and tried to cover his head as someone pounded his body with piercing blows. Things began to turn grey and Catherine's muffled screams, coming through the tape across her mouth, began to grow more distant.

Then suddenly, a voice bellowed from just outside the shack.

"Come out! This is the police. You don't have a chance. Don't make it harder on yourself. Come out and we'll talk about this."

Even in his disoriented mind, Greg recognized the voice...Jim Brass. He had never been so thankful to hear anyone in his life, for the blows which and been pelting him had finally stopped. However, he was unable to make his body obey his command to move, so he lay still on the floor.

"Get out of here, Cop! I'll kill them both if you don't get out of here!"

"Catherine? Are you okay?" Jim's voice belayed the tiniest bit of panic.

The man inside the building turned from where he now stood at the door and disappeared inside. He jerked Catherine to her feet. She seemed unsteady and Greg, who was barely able to keep his eyes opened against the dizziness that swept through his brain, noticed her stumble as the man roughly jerked the tape from her mouth.

"You're gonna be a treat for me, little lady," their captor whispered into her ear. "I'm gonna take you with me and when we get somewhere a little more private, I'm gonna fuck you so many times you'll forget who you are. And when I'm done, I'm gonna leave you just like I left her," and he motioned toward the house in front.

"Brass!" Catherine's terrified scream pierced the darkening sky.

"I'm getting out of here, Cop. Now, I want a car, and I want the police to back off. If anyone tries to stop me, I'll cut her throat. I swear. If you ever want to see this pretty little lady alive again, you'll give me what I want." A pair of gardening shears the man had picked up from a bench in the shack were suddenly pressed tightly to Catherine's throat.

Hauling Catherine in front of him, the man took a step toward the front of the small room. Greg, who was hardly able to focus on the events which were taking place before him, knew that if the man was able to get outside the room with her, Catherine's chances for release unharmed would drop dramatically. As the assailant gripped her neck, forcing the blades of the garden clippers into skin, and took the next step toward the partly-opened door, Greg bite into his lower lip and used every ounce of will power he could muster to fight the tearing pain as he forced his hand to grab at the ankle in front of him.

The man tripped and loosened his hold on Catherine. She immediately spun around and, using both hands as a club, bashed her captor across the face, causing him to fall back into the small building. It only took seconds for Brass and several other policemen to apprehend and cuff the man, who cursed and kicked as he was dragged to a waiting police car.

Catherine stood with her back toward Brass, sobbing quietly as she leaned against the building. Gently, he turned her around to face him. "Catherine, are you okay?" He softly touched the bruises on her cheek which had been made by the brass knuckles.

Too traumatized to speak, she could only nod as another sob broke from her throat. Gently, Brass let his arms encircle her trembling body, but released her as she pushed him away. "Greg!" she cried, suddenly remembering exactly how she had gotten away from her adversary.

The paramedics had already entered the small shack, pulling the door opened wide. Catherine tried to push herself away from Brass in order to get to Greg's side, but Brass held her still.

"Cath, stay here. They know what they're doing. He'll be okay, just stay out of their way."

As if on cue, one of the paramedics hurried from the building to return in only a moment with a stretcher. In moments, Greg's body was being lifted into the back of the waiting ambulance, an IV running into his arm and a plastic mask feeding oxygen into his mouth and nose.

"What's wrong with him," Catherine begged the paramedics. "He's coughing up blood. What's the matter with him?" Her voice was becoming frantic and her hands trembled as she clutched at one of their shoulders.

"Broken clavicle. From the looks of things, it's a comminuted fracture. The bone seems to be broken into several pieces, and from the looks of things, one of the bone fragments must have worked it's way down between his ribs and punctured his lung. We'll get him to the hospital as quickly as possible and they'll be able to tell you more."

A different paramedic approached her as the first one slipped behind the wheel of the ambulance. "Are you okay, Ma'm? Looks like you've been injured, too. Do you need assistance?"

"No, no, please, just get help for Greg. He saved my life. If he hadn't grabbed that guy's leg as we went past, I'd be dead by now."

Jim Brass's voice broke in, "I'll follow the ambulance in and bring her to the hospital. You fellows just get Sanders there as quick as you can."

The paramedic slipped away and before she knew it, the ambulance was pulling away, bright lights flashing in the darkness and siren wailing.

"Come on, Cath. I've put in a call to Gil. He'll meet us at the hospital." And with that, his arm steadied her as she walked toward his car.

***

Nick had just returned from his solo assignment for the night when they got news of what had happened to Greg and Catherine. He was just dropping off the last of the blood samples he had collected for Sara to look at, when he noticed Bobby, from Ballistics, hurrying past the door. Stepping outside long enough to wave him down, Nick grinned and asked, "Hey, Bobby. Where's the fire?"

"Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?" Sara joined Nick at the door to the lab.

"Catherine and Greg were taken hostage tonight. Some lazy-ass cop didn't clear the scene and they were both taken hostage by the perp. From what I heard, they're both on their way to the hospital right now. I was just on my way downstairs to see if anyone had heard anything new."

Nick felt as if a one ton weight had suddenly been dropped on him. Ever since Greg had been transferred to CSI trainee, Nick had tried to stay away from him. Over the time they had known each other, they had both played at flirting, and it had never really amounted to much. Nick had always been too cautious to develop any sort of relationship where his job was concerned. And the idea of having to train someone who he had feelings for was something that Nick could not come to terms with in his position. So he had elected to build a wall between himself and Greg, assuring that neither of them would be affected by any feelings they might have for each other.

And now, Greg was hurt, and Nick felt as though his neglect was something that might have created a huge chasm between them.

Sara was shaking her head. "Perp probably grabbed them to shut Greg up because he wouldn't stop asking questions."

Nick clinched a fist. "Sara, how else is he going to learn? At least he can ask intelligent questions. I think the fault might just be with the fact that we haven't really been giving him any intelligent answers." Spinning away from the lab, he tossed back over his shoulder, "I'm going to the hospital."

***

Gil Grissom sat quietly beside Catherine's bed as she slept. Gently he reached over and pushed a strand of hair away from her swollen face. Even though he had tried to be careful, her eyes opened and she smiled at him. He smiled back.

"How are you feeling?" he questioned.

"Like I've got a fractured cheekbone," was her drowsy reply.

"Well then, I guess you're feeling about right."

She took a breath and was silent for a moment. Then her eyes opened. "Lindsey?"

"Taken care of. I called your Nanny and explained what had happened. After I leave here, I'll stop by and talk to Lindsey myself. She'll be okay, and you'll be home by this afternoon. So stop worrying. Everything is taken care of for now."

Catherine was silent for another moment as she let her eyes close. Then they flashed open again. "Greg?"

Grissom drew a deep breath. "They had to put a tube in his lung to re-inflate it. There was a small fragment of bone from his clavicle which must have shifted when he moved to grab the guy's pant leg. It punctured the lung and gave us some awfully scary moments for a little while, but he's out of surgery and is doing just fine. Nick got here a little while ago, and he's with Greg right now."

"Well, thank God for that. It's about time!" Catherine sighed and then smiled, her eyes drooping "And you'd sure as hell better be looking the other way, Gil Grissom. It's taken a long time for those two to get this far, and I don't want you messing this up for them!"

Her breathing began to even out into that of sleep and Gil Grissom leaned over to give her a gentle kiss. "Don't worry, Catherine," he whispered. "I know about things taking a long time, and I'm not fixing to mess anything up."

***

It seemed like he had been sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair for a long time. The room had it's shades drawn and it was quiet outside the door. Greg was still in the ICU, but if nothing happened, he would be transferred downstairs to a private room later in the day. All the tests they had run had come back normal, and there would probably be no more complications from the broken collarbone which Greg had suffered at the hands of his and Catherine's assailant.

Nick shifted uncomfortably, trying to get some blood back into his numb ass cheeks.

A small groan from the bed told him that Greg had heard his movement and was starting to waking up from his last sedative. Nick stood and moved closer to the bed, idly rubbing his ass cheeks as he went.

Slowly, Greg's eyes fluttered to half-mast and he stared sleepily at Nick. "Hi," he mumbled.

"Hi yourself, Hero," Nick grinned in return.

"Hero? I'm no hero."

"Who says? I think everyone down at the station thinks you're a pretty brave guy. You know, you probably saved Catherine's life. If that guy had gotten past the police that were on the scene, she wouldn't have lasted a day."

"Not bad for a dumb lab rat, eh?" Greg's question told Nick that Greg definitely knew some of the talk that had been going around. And he felt ashamed that he had let things get as far as they had with Sara. She was an unhappy person right now, and she had been taking her frustrations out on someone who had no reason to receive the brunt of her anger. Nick knew he should have stopped things weeks ago, but his own insecurities had caused him to hesitate.

But things were going to change now. Gently, Nick reached out to take Greg's uninjured hand in his own. "Listen, Greg. You're no lab rat. You're a CSI trainee, and the best damned CSI trainee that I've ever had the good fortune to know. I should have told you that before now, but...well, I guess I just didn't want for things to get all tangled up between us."

"Tangled up?"

"Yeah, you know...confused, messed up...involved."

"You think we could be...involved?"

Nick smiled. "Hey, you never know. But I did hear your doctor say that you would be needing someone to take care of you until that collarbone is back to normal. I thought, if you want to, that maybe you could come stay with me for awhile. Maybe we could find out about this ''involved' stuff. If you want to, that is."

"Think you could put up with all my questions?" came a sleepy question.

"Sure, Greggo. That is, unless you might want to stay with Sara instead."

"God forbid!" was the drowsy reply. "When can we go home?"

Nick chuckled softly. Then he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Greg's sleeping forehead.



The End