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Title: Nerd Gone Wild
Chapter 1: Never Had Wings
Author: zia aka just1tearforme
Rating: PG13/R
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Episode: post Grave Danger
Warnings: angst, drama
Notes: This is my second CSI fic ever. N/G aren't together yet, they'll get there. If things seem unexplained in this chapter don't worry all will be well soon enough.

Wild - adj. wI & ld from Middle English wilde

1. a. not subject to restraint or regulation b. emotionally overcome, passionately eager or enthusiastic c. marked by turbulent agitation d. going beyond normal or conventional bounds e. indicative of strong passion, desire, or emotion
2. deviating from the intended or expected course

Chapter 1: Never Had Wings

“It’s a dog. It’s a dog.” Catherine said her words tinged with relief, repeating it like a mantra. Warrick seemed like he didn’t know whether to cry or scream. And Greg, Greg didn’t feel anything. He blinked, he knew he should feel something; but he couldn’t. Instead he forced his features to take on the appearance of shock, and pretended to feel.

He was doing that more and more these days, pretending to feel. The last few months weighed heavily upon him, and at times seemed more than he could bear. He had seen quite a bit, the majority of it he never wished to see in the first place. But the duties of the job called for it so he witnessed some of humanity at its worst, and it wore on him. Seeing Nick being buried alive and left for dead was the proverbial straw, and quietly after watching him for those first few moments on camera he left the room, barely making it to the bathroom before he lost all the contents of his stomach. He sat there for a while, his head resting against the cool porcelain toilet rim, fighting dry heaves and tremors that raced through his body. He didn’t have to look at his hands to know they were shaking again, violently shaking this time. Balling them into fists did nothing to assuage the trembling. It scared him to know that he was losing all tenuous tendrils of control. He was quickly becoming unraveled and once the last thread slipped away, he would be nothing better than a mentally wrecked shaking mass of tears huddled on the floor. Greg knew though that he had to regain control somehow, by whatever measure necessary in order to help them find Nick. So he had struggled to his feet, and stumbled blindly to lab, to the cabinet where he used to store his things. It took a bit of blind fumbling, but he found the small case he was looking for and snuck back to the bathroom. When he had reemerged, he was cool, collected, and functioning; and that was all he needed.

Subconsciously he felt panic at the thought of what he had done, but the end result outweighed the means. Now, he felt no panic, only moments of blessed relief followed by serene calm and if he felt anything, he knew he would feel happy. Truth be told Greg hadn’t touched the stuff in years, not since his college days when he partied the weekend away in various places. He had a slight romance with it for awhile when he came to Vegas, but the relationship ended within two months, and he didn’t really miss it. There were times when he heard its siren call, or when he felt like things were just too heavy. Until a few weeks ago the call had gone ignored, but control went rushing away too fast and he fell back into its welcoming arms. Heroin was his main man now, his raison d’etre, and he gratefully accepted its existence. One little snort of the magic faery dust and he didn’t have to feel a thing, or lose what little control he held onto. When it came to working cases like those of late, he was appreciative of the ability not to feel.

At the moment though, he wanted nothing more than to feel. This was why he decided to go party with old friends in a warehouse full of people, throbbing music, and limitless quantities of alcohol, drugs, and sex. It also explained why he was following a winged black and purple clad goth girl through the maze of people towards the third level office serving as a VIP room of sorts. She had come up to him bouncing in platform boots, covered in glitter and kissed him. By the time it registered with him to kiss back, she was whispering in his ear, “Would you like to get jammed?” He only smiled and she grabbed his hand, pulling him up the stairs. She stopped by the bar to grab shots of something, Greg couldn’t readily identify it nor did he care to, all that mattered was the warm feeling it created sliding down his throat and settling in his stomach. She slid a hand up his leg and under the miniskirt he wore, brushing her hand across his panties to cup his balls. With a wink and squeeze she melted away in the throng of people, daring him to follow her. But he had other priorities, the promise of bliss.

Bliss might have been a decent description, but nirvana was more apt when he finally made it the VIP room. Almost every narcotic imaginable graced the short tables and cushions strewn about the room. The little goth faery was waiting for him, hunched over a table snorting something. She smiled happily as the rush hit her and patted the cushion next her in invitation. “Blow?” he asked her. She smiled and closed her eyes losing herself in the music being spun below. The first little hit was enthralling. The second was amazing, and the oncoming rush of euphoria was beyond anything he could ever remember. He leaned back, resting against wall letting the feeling overtake him. His faery friend was swaying with the beat, hands and arms moving in wavy motions making her appear like she was floating. Smiling, he lost himself in her motions and closed his eyes.

He had the strange sensation of a breeze blowing across his body. And then he heard screaming, the kind of terrified screaming only precipitated by something horrible. Slowly he opened his eyes, and watched as the ceiling grew further and further away. Confusion and fear crept into his brain, he tried to sit up and he felt the distinct sensation of falling. Instinctually he flung a hand out to grab onto to something, anything to stabilize himself. His hand came into contact with warm flesh, the faery girl’s forearm, and he gripped it tight. And then the falling stopped with a sickening crunch on the second level platform. The impact caused him to bounce along with everything else; his body shifted a few feet. The girl slipped to the edge of the floor, her lower half hanging over the edge. The impact of the third level onto the second shook the metal platform greatly. The metal groaned and began to sway, dipping the edge lower with each motion. Things shifted, sliding towards the side, their weight increasing the angle at which the platform was beginning to lean. Tables, cushions tumbled passed crashing into one another and other things. Greg felt a tug on his arm. Moving in what felt like slow motion, he looked and saw the girl slide over the side. His shoulder popped at the sudden bearing of weight but he didn’t feel anything. The platform shuddered and shook leaning dangerously. He marveled at how the powered drugs looked floating in the lights like glittery pixie dust. He watched some of it trail by and his eyes locked onto hers. For a moment she looked at him before slipping from his grasp and falling to the ground.

Time flashed forward as the corner of the platform bent with a groan and everything went tumbling down. Greg fell with other things and people. He felt things hitting him, but what he didn’t know. His eyes closed as his descent stopped with a jolt and things went a little black. When he did open his eyes time resumed normal speed. Everything was in chaos, there was a pool of red and when he looked, he was covered in it too. Eyes wide he joined in the screaming, staring at a pool of blood.