This is just a quick one-shot post-episode story inspired by a few scenes in Episode 10x1 and written for Nick and Greg fans and readers of my previous stories. I returned to work and have been consumed by my career for the last 6 months, so I haven't had any time to write anything. I finally found an hour to write and it felt good just to get something on paper. Hopefully I'll be able to carve out some more time and finish Bleeding Love. Thanks to everyone who has been posting and emailing asking about that story. : )

Who Asked You?

Written By: Ms Maggs

"Ray!" Catherine waved for him to join her. "Let Greg get the supplies! I need you over here."

Feeling torn between following his boss's edict and helping his obviously perturbed team member, Ray hesitated. "I…"

"Go." Popping open the back of his Denali, Greg rolled his eyes. "Go before she blames me for you not going."

Ray reluctantly turned to join Nick and Catherine at the tape.

Watching his co-workers begin without him, Greg yanked two heavy supply cases from the truck. "That's right, big dogs, leave everything for the pup." He slammed the cases on the ground as he heard Riley laughing at him from miles away.

2 weeks earlier…

"What's wrong now, Sanders?" Riley plopped onto the locker room bench and playfully shoved the forlorn CSI. "Seriously, I've seen abused puppies at the Humane Society look happier than you." She teased, "Awww, did you check your book's ranking on Amazon again?"

"Very funny." In no mood for perkiness, Greg stood and closed his locker. "See ya tomorrow."

"No you won't." Her gleeful smile illuminated every inch of the dingy locker room. "I have the day off."

"What?" The overworked CSI's temper flared. "How did you get a day off before me?! I outrank you! And Catherine said she wasn't approving any time off."

"Yeah, I know, so I told Willows to shove it." Beaming with pride, Riley jumped to her feet and opened her locker. "You should try it. It's very liberating."

"Sara tried it once and it got her suspended." Greg bristled at the awkward memories. "Catherine's probably on her way to Ecklie's office right now."

"Good." Snickering, she began emptying her locker. "I just finished my exit-interview with Ecklie and I didn't hold back."

"Exit interview?" The Stanford genius quickly pieced the puzzle together. "Wait. You quit?"

"Yeah. You should try it." She patted her stunned ex-team member's cheek while she smirked. "It's very liberating and you could use a healthy dose of liberation."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means..." She decided to be brutally honest. "It means you're always going to be the goofy boy wonder to Nick's heroic Batman and if that's not depressing enough, how insulting is it to watch Ray become the Ice Maiden's chosen one after only ten minutes on the job. I was the new kid and it was annoying, but you've been paying your dues for years." Leaning in, she whispered, "You know I'm right." Seeing a glimmer of hope, she took Greg by the arm. "Maybe some liquid courage is all you need to see the writing on the wall. C'mon, drinks are on me."

While helping David remove the victim from the car, Greg fell deeper into introspection. Sara, Riley, and Grissom were all well-educated, intelligent people and they all quit and went on to bigger and better things, so why couldn't he? Most importantly, they were all happier now that they were away from Vegas and out of the lab. Staring at Nick working side-by-side with Langston, Greg's irritation flared. Riley was right, all he would ever be was the superfluous sidekick.

"Greg!" Catherine waved the last member of her team to join her. It had been a shitty night and she could sense things were only going to get worse not better.

Walking over, Greg vowed to stand up for himself. The next time someone treated him like a lackey instead of a seasoned CSI, he was going to let them have it and not back down. He was done being a pushed around like a puppy in a pack of big dogs.

"Busy morning," Catherine sighed as she read her latest text message. "We've got a possible 420 on Boulder Highway. Greg, you take it."

Stunned by his boss's blatant favoritism, Greg looked at Catherine with indignation. "Are you serious? You're sending me on a trash run to a flea bag motel?"

Knowing exactly what her employee's problem was, Catherine asked, "What's the problem?"

"Why me?" Greg threw his hands in the air. "There are people here with less seniority." He wanted to yell and point to Langston, but knew that would make him appear childish.

Feeling guilty for the hundredth time, Ray stepped forward. "Present and accounted for." He wanted to earn his dues, not be given a pass.

Nodding at his less tenured co-worker, Greg felt vindicated…until he heard his boss nix the idea.

"Ray, it's alright." The experienced mother knew better than to let a child throw a tantrum and get rewarded.

Ray just wanted the uncomfortable squabble to end. "Really, I'm happy to do it."

Nick couldn't hold back any longer. "No, no, that's not the point, Ray. When your supervisor assigns you a case, you don't whine about it, you take it. He knows that."

The stunned CSI couldn't believe Nick was talking about him like he wasn't even there. It was the ultimate offense and not a new one.

Without making eye-contact, Nick repeated the insult. "He knows that."

"Who asked you?!" Greg wanted to lunge forward, grab Batman's cape and strangle him with it.

Ray silently applauded Sanders for calling out Stokes. It was none of his business and yet Nick always intruded when Greg was struggling. Most of the time the intrusions were helpful, but sometimes, like today, they were condescending and awkward.

Sensing that Sanders was two seconds away from either saying or doing something that would make the embarrassing situation far worse for all parties involved, Catherine separated the quarreling children. "Nick, I need you over here." What she really needed was to work with an unemotional adult. She needed Grissom.

Before following orders, Nick had to preserve his record of always getting in the last word with Greg. "You know better than that."

Unable to stomach the lack of emotion in Nick's eyes, Greg grabbed his case. Everyone would think he stormed off like a spoiled brat who didn't get his way. "Fine." It was better for them to believe that than know his real reason for bolting.

Ray silently observed Nick watching Greg march off in a huff. It was obvious from his body language that Stokes wanted to chase after Sanders, but why? Did he want to continue the verbal thrashing or apologize for crossing the line?

"Nicky!" Catherine called, hoping to snap him out of his daze. "I said I need you over here."

"Right." Realizing he had crossed the line again, Nick hustled over. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"I know." Since they were in mixed company, Catherine kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. "Let's just get back to work."

"Yeah." After one last glance over his shoulder, Nick shifted his focus from the scene he had made to the crime scene in front of him.

"He knows that," Greg exaggerated Nick's Texas twang as he retold the story. Driving to the flea bag motel he continued ranting into his cell phone. "And then he repeated it! 'He knows that'. Like I wasn't even there! I was four friggin' feet away from him and he was talking like I was in a different county!"

"Watch your language, honey." Margaret Sanders warmly scolded her boy.

"Sorry, Mom." Minding his manners, he relayed the rest of the details. "When he finally looks at me, he says 'you know better than that' like he's talking to a five year old. And did Catherine tell him to shut up and stay out of it? No, of course not. She just let him humiliate me in front of everyone."

"She probably didn't want to get in the middle of it, Gregory."

"But she's the supervisor," he retorted. "If she doesn't want to get in the middle of things then she shouldn't be a supervisor."

"What I'm saying is - maybe she didn't think the issue was work related and kept quiet hoping the two of you would realize you sounded like a crabby old married couple. She was probably hoping you would stop humiliating yourselves without her intervention, which would have only made both of you look more pathetic."

"Oh." Waiting at a red light, he replayed the scene in his head. "Okay, yeah, but he was still wrong."

"Wrong to deliver the message in public, but his words were spot on."

"What?!" Accelerating through the intersection, Greg snipped into the phone, "You're supposed to be on my side, remember?"

"I know, but you really are such a whiner sometimes, Gregory. I don't know how Nick or Catherine puts up with it. It's probably the reason Sara and Grissom fled to the jungles of South America. When your supervisor tells you to do something, you do it. If you have a problem with it then you confront Catherine in private when the time is right. If you question your supervisor's judgment in public, then you deserve a public smackdown."

"Thanks for making me feel better," he groaned. "Not."

"Aww." The loving mother teased, "It's all my fault, Gregory. I spoiled you rotten and always gave in when you pitched a fit, especially if you were whining when I was downstairs playing cards and having drinks with the girls."

He chuckled into the phone, "Now that you've confessed, can I start sending you my therapy bills?"

"Only if I can send you mine." After a mutual laugh the concerned mother soberly said, "You know I wouldn't need therapy if you quit being a CSI and went back to working in the lab. If you worked in the lab then Nick wouldn't be able to boss you around anymore. You could go back to making him beg for his DNA results. Remember how much you loved doing that? You'd get your old salary back too and we both know you could use the extra cash. See, you returning to the lab is the answer to everyone's problems. Quit being a CSI, Gregory, that's my advice."

"Who asked you?" he said with a laugh.

"You called me."

"Only because you called me first."

"Which reminds me, can you come to Papa's birthday celebration or not?"

"No," he replied in a voice thick with disappointment. "With Riley gone we're swamped and pulling doubles. Sorry, Mom. I'll make a video message and you can show it to Papa Olaf at the party."

"You'd have more time off if you went back to the lab."

"Give it up, Marge," he droned while pulling into the motel parking lot. "Hey, I'm at the scene, so…"

"Okay, honey. I love you." Ever since her son was nearly beaten to death, she couldn't say those three words enough. "Be careful."

"I love you too, Mom." He smiled. "Thanks for not telling me what I wanted to hear."

"Anytime, dear." Ever since the beating, she refused to say goodbye. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah." He knew better than to say goodbye. "Later." After stowing his phone, he pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped out of his truck. The sight of the crime tape giving him a familiar rush, he decided to leave his disgruntled feelings behind him and focus on doing the job he loved.

"Anyone else need some coffee?" Catherine asked the guys after checking the time. "We have at least another hour to go and I'm dragging. Ray, would you mind grabbing us some?"

"I'd be happy to," Ray eagerly replied. "The usual for both of you?"

"No, I need a double," Nick answered, knowing he had a long day ahead of him. "But you don't have to go, Ray. I need to use the restroom anyway, so I'll just grab the coffee on the way back."

"What the hell, Nick?" Catherine teased her tightly wound friend. "Can I tell anyone what to do without you getting involved?"

"Uh." Nick looked to Ray and back to Catherine. "Sorry, I was just trying to save time and…"

"I was kidding, Nicky. You know I don't care who brings my caffeine as long as they do it quickly."

"Right." He pushed out a smile. "Be right back."

Once Nick was gone, Catherine turned to Ray. "You knew I was joking, right?"

"Uh…not exactly. No."

While snapping photos of the DB, Greg heard a text message come into his cell phone. He called over to the cop guarding the door. "Can you get the motel log from the manager?"

"Sure."

When the cop was gone, Greg checked the message.

I'm in Vegas and I have a surprise for you.
I'll be at the lab later.
- Sara

"Cool." A sunny smile consuming his face, Greg returned to snapping photos. The last time they had spoken, Sara had mentioned that she would be coming for a visit.

"The Manager is still being questioned," the cop explained when he returned empty-handed. "He'll bring the log as soon as he's done with the detective."

"Thanks."

Watching the news on TV, the officer grumbled, "This sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." Greg glanced up at the victim. "No wallet, no ID. He was probably robbed after the murder."

Still pissed at his supervising officer for sending him on this call, the cop muttered, "Half of the department gets to work a dead hot movie star in front of the national media but we end up on the wrong side of town in a scumbag incubator good for at least a couple of DBs a week." He shook his head. "Wasting our time."

"On what?" Greg snapped at the whining cop. "On an old man who gets tossed around this dump fighting for his life 'til he gets his skull smashed in. Whoever would do this is worth getting off the streets."

Feeling guilty for complaining, the cop apologized, "Yeah, definitely. Sorry." After watching the CSI work in silence for a few minutes, he started to worry that he'd be reported, "Hey, I didn't mean to sound like a whiner before, thanks for setting me straight. I love my job. Really, I do. Please don't tell my supervising officer that I bitched about where he sent me. He hates that and if he finds out, I'll get crap assignments for months."

Realizing he just chided the cop for doing the exact same thing he had done this morning, Greg laughed, "Don't sweat it. I was thinking the same thing when my supervisor sent me here." Only I was stupid enough to whine about it out loud. "Trust me, I won't say anything."

"Thanks."

Trying to alleviate any tension, Greg joked, "And I don't blame you. What guy wouldn't want to look at a hot blonde movie star instead of a toothless old man?"

"Exactly." Feeling comfortable that they were buds, the officer said, "Speaking of hot blondes, what happened to Adams? She was easy on the eyes."

"This is just between us, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Greg whispered, "I heard it was a classic case of lab romance gone bad."

The cop leaned in. "With Stokes, right?" The Texan had a reputation as a love 'em and leave 'em ladies man.

"Of course."

"I figured. You should hear the chicks talkin' about him in the breakroom." The cop asked with genuine curiosity, "You think it's the accent or the whole 'I survived being buried alive' thing?"

"Both." Remembering how irritated the Texan had made him that morning, Greg snickered, "But you know what they say about guys with superhero complexes?"

"Same thing as guys who drive sports cars, right?" The cop held up two fingers an inch apart.

"Exactly. It's all smoke and mirrors." Greg's riotous laughter nearly drowned out the sound of a text message dropping in. "I need to upload my prints and send them to the lab, so if you need a coffee break, I'll be gone for at least 15 minutes." Standing up, he headed for the door.

"Thanks, I could use a restroom break too."

On his way to the Denali, Greg took out his cell phone to check his message. Sorry, but you really were whining.

It was a typical Stokes non-apology. Shaking his head, he called the jerk.

"Stokes…"

"You suck at apologizing."

"Yeah? Well you suck at accepting apologies.

"With all the practice I get, you'd think I'd be better at accepting your dumbass apologies."

"Stop whining and accept my dumbass apology already."

As usual, Greg found it impossible to stay angry. "Fine! I accept your dumbass apology."

"Thanks, G." Nick's voice softened, "I really am sorry. Cath shoulda sent Ray to the flea bag motel instead of you."

"That's okay." Greg broke into a devious chuckle. "You look 10 pounds heavier on TV."

"Can't take your eyes off me, huh?

"You wish."

"Hey, I gotta go, this smokin' hot red-headed wants to have her way with me."

"Tell Catherine I'm having a blast at the flea bag motel. Best assignment of my career."

"Will do."

"One more thing…" He decided to assert a little more authority. "I don't care what you want. I'm painting the family room 'soft fern'."

"I already told you no. I can't watch football in a room painted 'soft fern'. That sounds totally queer."

"Who asked you?!" Greg yelled into the phone. "Is that what this morning was about? Soft Fern?"

"No, it was about you whinin' like a two year old when you didn't get your way."

"Like you're whining about not getting your way about the family room?!" Greg stood his ground. "Come on! I get bossed around work. I get bossed around at home. Is it really too much to ask to be the boss of the family room walls?"

When Nick returned with three coffees in hand, Catherine grabbed her caffeine and quietly asked, "Did he accept your apology?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." Nick brought his cup to his mouth to hide his smile. "Where's Ray?"

"Grabbing some more markers." Glancing around at all the TV cameras, the self-conscious forty-something female said, "I would have worn something more flattering if I knew I was going to be on TV all day. The camera adds 10 pounds."

"So I've heard."

"Greg told you we look fat, didn't he?"

"For the record, he said I look ten pounds heavier, but you look great…especially your hair. Somethin' about the color really catchin' the sunlight."

"Oh." Flicking her red locks off her shoulder, Catherine grinned, "In that case, next time I'll send Ray to the flea bag motel."

"Sara!" Greg greeted his former teammate with open arms. "What are you doing here? Tired of being happy and married?" From the smile on her face he knew the answer would be no.

"No," Sara replied while radiating marital bliss. "Grissom is teaching at the Sorbonne while we're waiting for our research grant to get funded."

After listening to her entire explanation, Greg's smile widened. He didn't know how much he had missed her until she was back.

"How's the world treating you?"

"Oh, you know. Still being treated like the lab tech with the crazy hair." It was nice to have someone other than his mother to confide in. "I'd run away to the jungle to get some respect, but I'm a wuss about needles and can't bring myself to get the malaria shots."

"For the record, I didn't run away from anything or anyone." Smirking, she clarified, "I was running toward my dream and Grissom followed me."

"No one would follow me."

Taking her friend by the arm, Sara teased, "Then why do you stick around?"

"Same reason you put up with Grissom all those years." He released a devious chuckle. "The sex is great and I hate paying rent."

"Shut up." She didn't know how much she missed his sense of humor until he was back in her life giving her a hard time.

"Let's go, Sara!" Catherine shouted from across the hall. "Pancakes are on me."

"Coming!" She patted her stomach. "After eating all that fine French food, I'm ready for some diner grub."

"Uh oh. Cravings. Did Grissom ply you with vino, pop a Viagra, and knock you up in the City of Love?" Greg ducked and avoided her smack just in time. "You missed me!"

As much as she loved Grissom and the adventures she they had been sharing, she couldn't deny it felt good to be home. "Yeah, I did." Joining Nick and Catherine in the hallway, she smiled. "I guess there really is no place like home."

"That's right, Dorothy."

"Sara!" Hodges darted over.

Greg snickered, "Speaking of the Wizard of Odd."

"Where's Grissom? Is he with you?" Hodges scanned the hall. "He hasn't been returning my calls."

"He's um…really busy." Sara sweetly patted her husband's stalker on the shoulder. "But you're at the top of his list."

Standing in the middle of the family room, Greg proudly pointed to the three by three square he had just painted on the wall. "See…Soft Fern is the perfect choice for this room."

There was no denying it matched the furniture perfectly and gave the room a soothing feel. "You're right, G."

"Really?" It wasn't a phrase he heard often, so he felt compelled to double-check. "Seriously? You like it?"

"Yeah." Stepping behind Greg, he slipped his arms around his waist. "I do."

"So I can paint the room? I mean, all joking aside, it's your house, so I want you to be…"

"It's our house," Nick whispered into his lover's ear.

"Not technically."

With a chuckle, Nick sweetly asked, "If it'll make you feel better, we can put your name on my shitty upside down mortgage."

"No, that's okay. I can't afford that kind of validation in this economy." Greg replied in a laugh, "Permission to paint the walls will have to do."

"You don't need my permission, remember? You're the self-declared boss of the family room walls. You can paint 'em whatever you want." Nick placed a tender kiss on his partner's cheek and tightened his embrace. "But thanks for askin'."

And thanks for reading,

Maggs