Chapter Text
Damage
by Bfcat
Greg stood in the ruins of the CSI lab; passively watching as the aliens slowly succumbed to their disease. He watched as people slowly came out of hiding, like shy mice. Watched as, one by one, they came to the realization that everything was over and they cheered. And he knew, he should be down there cheering with them...but he couldn't. The blond had seen too much. He'd had too bury too many of his friends, had to watch as the giant creatures killed them off like a bunch of worthless ants and worst of all...no one he knew had shown up yet. The CSI trainee turned his back on the cheering crowd and wordlessly surveyed what was left of the lab.
Remembering...remembering what it had looked like just a few days ago and how simple things had seemed.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"You hear about Aruba?" Greg exclaimed, suddenly appearing behind Catherine. The elder CSI jumped and then shot the younger blond an alarmed look, before turning back to her case. She was headed to the A/V lab.
"Freak thunderstorm, right?" she flipped up a page.
"Yeah! Everyone lost power there. Everyone!"
"...Uh huh..." Catherine didn't look up from her files.
"What do you think caused it?"
"Weather stuff...?" she stopped at the A/V lab. "Look, Greg...don't you have a case?"
"Nope!" Greg chirped.
"Well...some of us do. Why don't you go to Grissom? I'm sure he can find you a case to work on with him or you can talk about the weather with him. I'm sure he'd be thrilled either way," Catherine went into the lab and straight to Archie. Greg looked around the hallway, before heading to Gil's office. Cheerfully knocking on Grissom's door before entering, he plopped onto the chair in front of the desk. Slowly, Grissom looked up from whatever report he was writing, an eyebrow raised.
"Greg..."
"Grissom, got any cases for me? Multiple DBs? Big felony? A misdemeanour...?" With every suggestion, Grissom's eyebrow slowly raised higher and higher.
"Sorry Greg," he shrugged. "No one's died yet. No one's committed a major robbery...and we don't do misdemeanours. Just work on your paperwork, that never goes away. It'll always keep you busy. Maybe try opening up a cold case with Warrick or someone." Grissom went back to his report, while the trainee's shoulders sagged with the weight of his disappointment.
Then, they quickly regained their normal composure as Greg excitedly asked, "Did you hear about Aruba?"
Slowly, Grissom faced Greg again. "Freak thunderstorm, right?"
"Why does everyone answer like that? Do you really need add the 'right' at the end?" Gil looked taken back, looked around the room, then back at Greg.
"What?"
Greg quickly shook his head. "Nothing, nothing...never mind." he paused. "But you've heard about it, yeah?" after eliciting a slow nod from Grissom, Greg asked, "What do you think caused it?"
"Different air pressures, Greg. What else causes thunderstorms?"
"I dunno'! It was a freak thunderstorm, right? Couldn't the cause be something else like...?" he gestured around wildly, arms flailing as he tried to come up with something, "Pollution?"
"...Pollution?"
"Yeah!" the older man continued to look sceptic, yet amused in that Grissom way of his. It made Greg's confidence fizzle out. "Well...no! But you know, maybe something different caused the storm!"
"Like pollution..."
"It could happen! Like..." he snapped his fingers. "Global warming! Maybe it was caused by global warming, which is caused by pollution!" the blond smugly pointed out. The CSI supervisor let out a small laugh.
"Greg...just go do your paperwork. I'll call you if a case comes up." he waved Greg off with a shooing motion.
"All right...I'll go talk to Nick!" and with that, Greg was off again. Grissom just rolled his eyes and went back to work.
~*~*~*~*~
"Nick!" Nick looked up from the computer screen, caught sight of Greg and grinned.
"Greggo!"
"Watcha' working on?"
"Nothing much, just looking over some cold ca-Hey!" Stokes yelped as his boyfriend dragged him across the hallway and into a closet. And then, before Nick's brain could catch up to the present, Greg slammed the door and latched himself to Nick's lips.
Instinctively, the CSI let out a throaty moan and threw his arms around Greg's waist, deepening the kiss, until his brain finally caught up. He quickly pushed the blond off of him, frantically looking around, making sure no one saw...as if anyone would.
"Greg! What are you doing?" he hissed. The said man rolled his eyes while calmly wiping off some dust from his shirt, already completely used to Nick panicking over the little things.
"Well I was having a great make out session before somebody freaked out!"
"You're damn right I freaked out! We're at work...where we work! Stress on work, man!" Greg gave him a look that said 'and'. "What if someone sees us, Greg? I thought we agreed not to fool around during work hours!"
"But what about that time..."
"That's doesn't count!"
"But Nick!" the younger man whined with a pout. "No one's doing anything..." then he remembered Catherine. "Well...mostly no one but that's not the point! We, meaning me and you, you and I," he rapidly pointed at both of them, "are not on a case! All we're doing is filling in a bunch of papers that can wait...or in your case, looking over some old case that can still wait!" Greg ran a seductive finger down Nick's chest and then started drawing little circles over his stomach.
"C'mon...live a little." Greg growled in a husky voice.
He leaned in, his lips almost touching the brunette's, breath hot and inviting against Nick's slightly part mouth. "Get in touch with that..." the sound of beepers going off filled the closet and the blond quickly pulled away from his boyfriend, grumbling to himself. He checked his beeper and scowled. All hopes of getting himself a little office supply closet loving were gone, disappearing in a puff of proverbial smoke.
"Nick, babe, did Grissom beep you?"
"Yeah..."
"Which means we have a case, right?"
"Probably."
"Damn it! I was so close to getting some!" he shook his fist. "So close!" Nick gave him a disapproving look, not the least bit amused by Greg's antics. The trainee grinned in response. Rolling his eyes and knowing it was useless, the Texan slowly opened the door, cautiously looking around to make sure no one was watching, before he dragged Greg out of the supply closet and shut the door.
"C'mon you..." Nick grumbled, "Swear to god, I can't you take you anywhere!" And the only response he got was that loud laugh that he loved to death.
~*~*~*~*~
"Not to sound like a five year old or anything...but are were there yet? I mean, where is this crime scene? Cause like we've already left the city!" Greg loudly whined, huffing with impatience.
"It's in some small town just outside of the city, barely in our jurisdiction."
"Okay...so what's with all the cars?" Greg asked as Grissom parked the van in the middle of the road, next to Brass's cop car.
About a dozen abandoned cars blocked the rest of the road. People were cautiously moving down the street, trying to see what happened and why the cops were there.
"According to Brass, a freak storm hit the town, which knocked out the power and made all the cars stop working."
"Freak storm? Like the one that hit Aruba?"
"Yes Greg, like the one that hit Aruba." The three CSI's walked past the cars and into a throng of people.
Nick looked around, surveying all the cars. "Did lightening somehow strike all of the cars or something?"
"No they just stopped working during the storm." Grissom said.
The Texan was still confused. How does a thunderstorm affect that many cars like that?
"Grissom!" Brass called out, waving them over.
"What have we got, Brass?" Gil asked as they caught up to him.
"Male DB, early thirties, identified as a Michael Grodin. Witnesses say he was struck by lightning..."
"Umm...Brass, we only investigate homicides and suspicious deaths. Getting struck by lightning is a natural cause of death." Nick cut in. Brass gave him a sour look.
"I know. Let me finish. Witnesses say he was struck by lightening twice, his body toppled over and the lightening kept on
coming."
"What do you mean it 'kept on coming'? The storm kept up?"
Greg peeped. They reached the body, and both Nick and Greg stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide and pale. Grissom grimaced but walked over to the body.
"No. Michael Grodin was struck by lightening about twenty-four times after the first two, by witnesses' count." There, sprawled on the ground was the body, a gaping hole in his chest...a hole that dug into the concrete with no end in sight. Grissom cautiously peeked over the deceased and into the hole, careful not to disturb the body.
"How far does it go down?" Grissom asked and Brass shrugged.
"No clue." he looked over to Nick. "That suspicious enough for you, Stokes?" A mute nod was all he got. Gil looked up at the sky and saw what could only be described as a giant, grey whirlpool in the clouds. That was kind of suspicious too.
"How did we not see this storm in Vegas?" the CSI asked himself.
"Forget that! How does a guy get struck by lightening twenty-six times?" Greg demanded eyes still glued on the body.
"That's impossible, right? Lightning only strikes a place twice in a row at the most, right?" Stokes just shook his head.
"I dunno...Umm...Grissom, should we process the hole or wait for the coroner?"
"Let's wait. Process the area around it. This lightening...there's something wrong about it."
"Besides the obvious 'hitting one spot twenty six times'?"
"Yes Sanders, besides that." he paused, "Nick, check the roof of the buildings surrounding the body. See if maybe there's something that could've caused..." he gestured around, "all this."
"I'm on it." The Texan muttered, eager to get away from the body. Meanwhile, Greg noticed a small group of officers peering over the body. Scowling, he went over to shoo them off. They might contanimate the crime scene! But as he got closer, he began to hear something: a rumbling...like water running underground. Confused, Greg went to the nearest bystander and asked, "Do you guys have an underground sewage system? Lots of water pipes, maybe?" the bystander shook their head.
"Umm...not that I know of..."
"You're sure?" The man gave a Greg a slow, yet confident nod.
"Yeah."
"Right..." the CSI trainee looked over to Grissom to see if he heard the noise, but the elder CSI was deep in talk with Brass.
Nick was already off somewhere else, fat chance he heard it. With a sigh, he pursed his lips...and decided to go for it. He quickly shooed away the officers, and then slowly peered into the mysterious opening, shining his flashlight down into the deep hole. The light didn't reach the bottom. But it didn't matter...
...'Cause that's when the shaking started. The blond let out a small yelp and jumped back, dropping the flashlight into the hole.
Both Grissom and Brass snapped out of their conversation, alarmed.
"Ok, everyone stay calm!" Brass shouted as the throng of people frantically started to run away, screaming with panicked terror.
"Nick! Get back here!" Grissom yelled, hoping his CSI could hear him. Cursing, he yanked out his cell phone and dialed the Texan's phone number, "C'mon Nick..." but no one answered the phone.
Greg quickly took another step back from the body, only looking away to glance around for Gil.
"Umm...Grissom!" he called, and when Grissom didn't hear him he called out again, much louder this time, "Grissom!!"
Gil whirled to face Greg, shoving the cell phone back into his pocket, "What?"
"The ground! Look at the ground!" he frantically pointed down.
The bug expert's eyes slowly travelled to the ground, already knowing he wouldn't like what he saw and widened. "Oh shit..."
TBC