Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, any of ther characters or plot lines. I do own my own ideas, and thats about it.

Zai: This is my first attempt at a non-oneshot CSI fic. I think I have it mostly planned out, so I'll try to update frequently. This story is set around season 5, when the team is split up and Greg just passed his field test. No pairings planned, main focus is on Greg. So anyway, please read and review!

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The former lab tech, Greg Sanders poured himself a cup of coffee from the break room. Since he had made it from his personal stash of Blue Hawaiian, it was drinkable, unlike the horrible brand the lab bought. He sat down at the table to drink his coffee, although he knew he really should not be having another cup so close to the end of shift. He would never manage to fall asleep once he got home. On the other hand, he was pretty sure he would fall asleep at the wheel, on the way home, without it.

He had only been in the field a relatively short time, having only just passed his final proficiency test, and already the young CSI was feeling the effects of long overtime hours. He had worked overtime, occasionally, in the lab, but in the lab the work was far less demanding, and overtime only happened when they were really swamped. He was really looking forward to ending a shift on time, for once.

However, the graveyard shift's newest CSI's, hopes where soon dashed as the greying head of his supervisor, Gil Grissom appeared around the break room door. "We've got a case, Greg." He said holding up a slip of paper. Grissom looked tired as well, but not nearly as much as Greg did.

"Can't day-shift take it?" Greg queried, after all shift was due to change within the hour. Calling the next shift early was quite standard.

"4 db's" Grissom explained already turning to leave, "Someone from day shift will meet us there."

Greg sighed and quickly downed as much of his remaining coffee as he could, before he got up and followed his colleague and mentor. What a way to end a day, he mused, Or make that start a day. He thought, correcting himself as he stepped outside into the early morning light. A multiple death scene meant they were going to be there for quite some time.

The address on the call brought them to a very typical looking high school, painted an off-white with blue trims. Visible out behind the school was a large oval running track, surrounded by a grassy field. To the other side of the main building Greg noted there was a small portable. It looked oddly familiar to Greg, and he figured it must have a similar layout to his old high school.

Heading toward the main entrance, Greg sighed. He knew he would never get used to seeing the victims. Especially when they were just kids. Detective Jim Brass was waiting for them just inside, by the main office. Thankfully, school was not yet in session and there were only a few people milling about, mostly teachers, all who had been ushered outside and waiting awkwardly on the school's cement pathway.

"The bodies are in the male locker room," Brass explained as he lead the way toward the gymnasium. "They were at school early, training for a track meet. Four man relay race."

Completely unprepared for the scene that awaited them Greg stopped short in the doorway. Very little of the standard locker room remained untouched. Debris scattered clear across the room. Along the far wall a row of blackened lockers looked like the possible source of the explosion as they seemed to bear the brunt of the damage.

Not that Greg was very knowledgeable on explosives, he had never actually worked a bombing. He had never wanted to either, and the vivid images that flashed through his mind as he took in the sights and strong burning smell from the scene reminded him why.

Everything happened at once. The loud noise, the sensation of flying as he was thrown back and worst of all, the pain. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils, and he was vaguely aware that it was his flesh. People where shouting things, but his ears were ringing and he could not understand what the voices around him were saying.

Then he was being placed on a stretcher and he was off the ground. The stretcher lurched forward down the long hall. He felt the medics checking his vitals. All around him the scattered debris of the lab lay haphazardly covering the floor. He closed his eyes against the sight, but he could still see the destruction around him in his mind. He still did not understand what was happening.

Shaking his head Greg forced himself to step into the locker room. Feeling his hands tremble slightly at the vivid memory, he shoved them in his pockets as he surveyed the scene. "Where should I start?" he asked Grissom forcing his voice to remain level. He did not want his supervisor to know how easily he was shaken up from an incident that occurred almost two years previously.

"Start bagging pieces, we've got to find and reconstruct the bomb," Grissom said as he walked over to talk with David who was examining one of the bodies, pretending not to notice the distress of his brown-blonde-haired co-worker. He trusted Greg to process the scene despite his past experiences.

Greg pulled on a pair of gloves and began near the most damaged lockers. The lockers where only half height, and were stacked two high, as a result. Greg thought it looked like the bomb had been in a lower locker. He bent down and examined the unhinged door of a blacked locker.

He had just started his evidence collection, when the day-shift CSI arrived. He had short sandy-blonde hair that curled in gentle waves, and he was a fair bit taller then Greg. His eyes were a dark green and he looked rather awake, Greg noted, still longing for the sleep he was currently being denied. He was now quite glad for the extra caffiene boost he had managed to grab back at the lab.

Having never before worked with the man, Greg introduced himself. But did not offer his hand as it was gloved and already turning black from sifting through the bomb debris.

"I'm Nolan Fairer," The man replied politely. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and Greg suspected he had a lot more experience than himself. "Where do you want me?" The fair-haired asked, clearly speaking to Grissom and not to Greg.

Grissom looked up from where he was crouched beside one of the victims, "Help Greg with the collection over there for starters." He said before turning back to ask David something about the body.

Nolan nodded and bent down next to Greg. He glanced at the younger man with the slightly unusual hair-do and noticed how pale he appeared. "You okay?" He asked quietly.

Greg supposed that he was just being nice, but it felt almost as if the older CSI was intruding on his privacy. "Just a little tired," Greg muttered darkly, deciding he was just upset that his upset at the scene was so clearly visible, especially to someone who did not even know him. Which meant Grissom had most definitely noticed how much the scene disturbed him, Greg noted unhappily.

Working in silence now, the two CSI's proceeded to move outwards, away from each other, towards the ends of the lockers, photographing, documenting and bagging the smallest of bomb fragments. It was tedious work, but by focussing his attention on the individual pieces and not on the crime scene as a whole, Greg was less reminded of the lab explosion.

Several times he thought he caught Nolan shooting curious looks his way. He tried to ignore the other man shifted slightly so he was facing away from the day-shift CSI. It had been a long time ago, and Greg was rather embarrassed that it bothered him so badly.

Greg neared the last locker in the row, the damage was less noticeable here. However, just under the charred bench, a small piece that looked like it might have been part of a timer, caught Greg's eye. He crouched down and photograph it, before carefully picking up the piece.

It was strange how the actual bomb pieces survived the explosion, Greg mused tiredly. Especially since when he had picked up a few of the pieces, they had looked rather delicate. Not like something he would expect to survive being at the centre of an explosion. Absorbed in his own work he did not notice as, at the far end of the lockers, Nolan Fairer swore softly under his breath and slipped something small into his vest pocket.

It was several hours later by the time the three CSI's had finished processing the scene. Gathering all the collected evidence they returned to the lab to log it. Grissom left the two younger CSI's to sort through their collections. By the time Nolan and Greg were finished logging the evidence, so they could resume work next shift, Greg was ready to fall asleep on the spot.

"At least your shift's over now," Nolan commented lightly as he watched Greg struggle to keep his eyes open. Taking his deep green eyes off the sleepy young man, Nolan carefully placed both their photos together in a folder and closed it for the graveyard shift to continue the next night.

"Yeah," the younger man mumbled glad that he was finally able to call it quits for the shift, but slightly put off by the fact that both Sara and Sophia had been off for hours. After a quick stop in the locker room he headed out to his car. Throwing his kit in his backseat he drove straight home, to his apartment, where he collapsed in bed still dressed, barely managing to kick only his shoes off before he tanked.