Story notes--

1. I don't own these fantastic fictional creations. I can only wistfully watch them on my DVD's and on TV...which reminds me the next two episodes look to be amazing (On April 5th, return of Demetrius James brother and mom in the case, and Greg handles it...EEE!!! Look out for the eppi, called Big Shots)

2. Stuff written in bold and italicized mean Greg is talking in his head

3. Whole conversation lines italicized means that theer is a telephone conversation.

4. These rules wil stand throughout the whole story...if I remember:S Haha, enjoy, now to your feature presentation

Okay...THIS is the one I've been having problems writing...for time, I mean. This little plot bunny is the work of one remoob1513, so thank her for the plot. I found it extremely interesting, and I hope I can do it justice. I don't really have anything to say, just I hope you enjoy, and don't stab me for being slow, and for having obnoxiously long authors notes...won't happen again! Haha, here ya go!

CHAPTER 1: WORST BEST DAY EVER

"Assignments, guys." Gil Grissom called, walking into the break room, calling attention to his team of CSI's like they were farm animals waiting for a meal. "And be prepared. Las Vegas is far from sleeping tonight."

"When does it ever sleep?" Catherine Willows said, flicking her strawberry-blonde hair back. She reached up and received her assignment slip from her boss. Her blue eyes flicked over the words. "Ooh, B&E in Summerlin. I'm on it."

"Warrick, you stick with me. We have to finish up on our body dump."

"Got it." The big African-American replied standing up and stretching his broad shoulders and back.

"What do I get?" Greg Sanders said, his over-eagerness showing with his kilowatt smile and peppy bouncing on the break room couch. It stopped abruptly however when Sara gave him a sharp prod in the ribs.

"Hold it, you'll get your turn."

Grissom seemed to ignore the two in the corner, and just gave out assignments. "Nick, you get a good old fashioned 419 on the strip…have fun."

Nick Stokes gave a nod, receiving his assignment slip and reclining back in his seat. Grissom walked over to where Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders sat. "Sara, you get a B&E also. This one up in Henderson."

Sara took her slip, and Greg started to bounce excitedly up and down again. "Who do I get to go with?"

Grissom gave a curt smile, and handed him a slip of his own. "Greg, m'boy, here you go. Robbery at a local gas station off the I-15."

Greg stopped bouncing, and his smile turned to a look of surprise. "No way. I get to work solo?"

"That's right." Grissom stepped back He addressed them all. "Okay guys, you know the drill. There's a lot going on tonight, so keep your eyes peeled. I don't want you to miss anything. And most importantly, stay safe. I don't want any of my CSI's hurt or in danger." A murmur of affirmatives said that they all understood. "Okay then, let's get to work."

Everyone got up except for Greg, who was stuck in his stupor. He was only awakened when a feather light touch sent a trail of fire from his shoulder through the rest of his body. He looked up and saw Sara hovering over him. "First solo case, Greggo! Are you excited?" Her smile set him beaming, the realization finally setting in.

"My first solo Sara, you know I'm bursting at the seams with excitement!" He jumped up and, hugging her tightly, swung her around the room. He didn't even seem to notice what he had done, he was that happy, but the blush on Sara's cheeks meant she had. "Okay!" He called out to her as he raced for the locker room. "Wish me luck Sar!"

Sara, still with light rouge gracing her cheeks, laughed. "Good luck Greg." She started towards the exit when he came bounding back towards her. "Uh, Greg?"

"Sara, I know that I haven't gone to my case yet, and I haven't solved it yet, but since it actually is my first solo case and I am super excited about it…" He drew in a breath, 'I was wondering if you'd like to go out for coffee and breakfast with me after shift, and I know what you're thinking, but it's not a date, it's just…"

"Sure Greg."

Greg stopped. "Really?"

Sara smiled at him, a sassy smile that sent his mind reeling every time he saw it. "Sure. I'll see you after shift. Good luck again, Greg. You'll do fine."

They both turned around, going to their destinations, both not noticing that the other was literally floating on cloud nine. Greg skipped happily to his locker, and as he passed the lab techs that were starting their shift, they wondered if he was actually floating on air. "My first solo case AND a half-date with smoking Sara Sidle?" His inner voice thought as he grabbed his kit and vest. "It must be the best day of my life."

And so those same thoughts swam in his head as he pulled up to his crime scene at an old decrepit gas station off the I-15. Greg could not get the smile off his face as he grabbed his kit and headed towards the crime scene tape. He approached a woman, with long black hair who was standing in front of the store. From what Greg could see, she was small and petite. The perfect target for a robbery. The woman turned her head, acknowledging Greg, and she greeted him. "Hello. You must be from the crime lab. My name is Cammy Leanne. I work at the gas station here.

"Yeah, I am. My name is Greg Sanders. Uh…" Greg cast about. "Do you know where the police officer went?"

Cammy looked at him for a second, a scrutinizing glance, and then seemed to realize what Greg had said. "Oh, oh, they went out back, to secure the area. They said that the store is clear."

"That's okay, ma'am." Greg said. This was his first solo, and he was not about to screw up the most basic of rules. "I still have to wait to speak to the officer."

Cammy nodded. "I understand. I'll go and retrieve him for you."

Greg nodded in appreciation of the act. "Thank you. And sorry to hear about your store."

"It isn't the first time this has happened." Cammy said, almost with a sarcastic sneer. She kept on walking however, around the back of the store. Greg just stared after her, wondering, until he remembered why he was here. He had a job to do. Alone. Solo…ahh, those four beautiful letters brought a shiver of excitement tingling through his body. No telling what he'd be like if he solved his first solo. Maybe a breakfast treat from Nick, or some betting fun with Warrick, or maybe…just maybe…a full date with Sara.

However, his reverie was brought to a screeching halt when Cammy came back with a police officer Greg had not recognized before. "Here is the officer, Mr…Sanders." Cammy said upon her return, greeting him with his last name which she had attained from his vest.

"Hey." Greg greeted the officer.

"Got the scene cleared." Was the officer's curt reply.

Greg looked at him oddly. "Uh…have I met you before?"

"No, no." The man replied quickly. "I'm a rookie here. Names Officer Cal Echo. Good to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." Greg replied, shaking hands with the man. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to process the scene." He looked at Cal. "Have you taken her statement?"

"No sir, but I'll do that now." He led Cammy away, and left Greg to do what he did best.

Process a crime scene.

"Simple enough," Greg thought as he approached the door, "It's only a robbery. Hopefully just find some fingerprints, maybe some trace…" He smiled at the thought of an easy case.

He entered the building, and looked about. The store was like any other gas station you'd find off the I-15, albeit a little run-down. The whirr of the freezers in the far left corner made the place seem a million times more lively than it was, being deserted, and the ancient cash register that was on the counter to his immediate right was just begging to be forced open and its treasure inside taken. Greg set down his kit near the door, and hauled out a pair of gloves. Standard procedure. He wouldn't even screw that up in the lab. Then he got to work. On every surface, he checked for hairs or anything else out of the ordinary. On every surface, he dusted and checked for prints. He did everything by the books. He was ready, prepared, but not for anything like he was about to see.

He walked into the bathroom of the place, to see if the perp had lost anything, purposefully or not (including his DNA) in the bathroom, but his eyes were met with a much more gruesome, horrific site. "Someone seriously put an understatement on this crime scene." Greg thought as he looked at the blood spattered on the wall. "Did someone say robbery? This looks like murder."

And it was true. On every surface, including the ceiling, blood lay dripping in pools like stalactite caverns. The dripping noises of the blood made Greg sick to his stomach, but he kept his cool. The light filtering through the windows of the bathrooms were deep crimson. It cast an eerie glow about the place. Greg's breath caught in his throat. He flipped open his phone, and dialled the familiar number to LVPD. "Brass, it's Greg Sanders. I'm working the case out off the I-15." His breathing got heavier as he got more paranoid. "It was called as a robbery, but there's blood everywhere here."

"What? There was no blood there when my guy called it in."

"Yeah, about that, what's the idea of sending a rookie out alone? Aren't you supposed to train them first with a mentor or something? I think officer Cal Echo may have missed something." Greg's fright was causing him to become snippy.

"Rookie? I sent a veteran out there, just because it was your first solo. And who the heck is Cal Echo?"

"A veteran? Then where is he…uh oh…" Greg was starting to become terrified now, and was going to tell those exact words to Jim Brass.

Greg never got to voice his opinions however, as Brass's voice could be heard again. "Don't move Sanders. Just pretend like you don't know anything, and you're just processing another scene. We'll get there as soon as we can."

"Thanks…" Greg said, flipping his phone closed. Greg felt like he was in a plastic bag, so he took a few deep breathes to calm himself down. He gritted his teeth in determination to not let this bother him and he set to work, or pretending to, until help arrived.

Not a second later however, Greg felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle up. With cat like reflexes, he jumped up and swiveled, in time enough to miss the attack on him by the raven-haired Cammy Leanne.

"Damn." She swore lightly, taking back her brandished weapon. She ran her fingers along the fine metal of the hypodermic needle delicately. "Missed."

Then it hit Greg like a two-tonne vehicle. Painfully obvious. "Cammy Leanne. Chameleon." He backed away, putting his hands out in the peaceful gesture taught to all law enforcement. He didn't even bother to worry about the blood, as he heard the squelching noises come from the soles of his now ruined sneakers. "Who are you?"

"That's the problem, Gregory." She said calmly. "You never did know me."

Greg's eyes widened. "How do you know…?"

She cut him off. "Maybe the question is, how could I forget, which is the exact question I want to ask you!" She screeched, and she ran after him again, holding the needle threatening. However, Greg wasn't going to go down without a fight, and he caught he arms as she came upon him.

"Let me go!" She screeched as he held her back. She was strong for appearing so petite, he'd give her that, but Greg also deceived the eye. He easily wrenched her arm, allowing the needle to fall harmlessly to one of the only spots on the floor not tainted by the scarlet lake.

"Who are you?" Greg repeated, still holding her forcefully by the wrists.

She looked up at him with her large eyes that, Greg noticed for the first time, were of a light purple…purple… "You'll have to find that out for yourself."

"How about you tell me?" Greg said, this time using more force. He had taken enough bull from this woman. He pushed her against the door of a stall. "Answer me, damn it!"

She smiled, causing Greg to look at her, face and deep brown irises openly showing his confusion and fear. "I won't have to."

"Why is…" Greg started before he actually felt like a two-tonne vehicle ran him over. Just pain. He fell to his knees, his jeans becoming soaked in the blood, and he lifted his hands from the floor, seeing his prints stare back at him. He tried to get up, but he felt a strong being come and bring his arms under Greg's, and he felt them connect around his neck, successfully restraining him. Greg, even with his head throbbing, jumped and struggled, but he was only wearing himself out.

Still he did not stop until he was physically completely out of strength. Panting, sweat dripping from his damp sandy blonde curls, he watched with a venomous glare at the woman, who very egotistically stooped to pick up her weapon once more. She smiled a sly smile. "Thank you, Cal."

Greg tried to move once more out of his grasp, but he was pinned fast. Cal pushed Greg out more, causing his shoulders to sear in pain. He grimaced only. "Why are you doing this?"

Cammy came close to Greg, seductively swaying her hips. Greg tried to struggle again, but found himself helpless to defend against the woman. She leaned against Greg, her thighs against his, chest against chest. Only their faces never touched, hers only an inch from his. "If you find out who I am, then you'll know." She allowed her lips to brush against his, and Greg felt a sharp pinch on his stomach. He kicked out his legs, successfully hitting her in the torso.

With a scream, she fell back into the blood. Greg felt his attackers grip loosen, and he took this time to pull one of the self-defense moves Sara had taught him. Freeing one arm from the hold, he grabbed Cal's wrist and applied pressure to a certain point near the thumb. Cal doubled over and screeched in pain, and Greg ran as fast as he could out of the bathroom.

Greg hopped over all the debris that lay in his way, but as he entered the full sunlight of the Las Vegas day, he staggered. Suddenly, the sky and earth were split vertically in his vision, and he fell to his hands and knees once more in vertigo. Sudden nausea made him vomit, and he fell over to his side in exhaustion and pain. His hand wandered to his stomach, where he felt the needle stick loosely out of his skin. He ripped it from it's place with very little precision, ripping the skin slightly and it bled lightly. In his deteriorating state, he hid the needle half sticking out of the sand. Maybe they'd find his killer.

He thought of the lab, how he had failed his first solo case. He thought of how his mother would take the news of his death, of who the lab would find to replace him. His world got hazier, like an old T.V. that played nothing but static. His last thoughts before his conscious went were of Sara, and how he would never make their half-date…