Hidden Fears

By: Emmithar

Rating: K

Summary: If he could only forget what he couldn't remember. One Shot; Spoilers: Inside the Box

Disclaimer: I don't CSI or any of the characters…ho hum

Hidden Fears

It had been a long day, Greg had never remembered being so busy. He was certain there had been other times, but at the moment, he couldn't think of any. The DNA lab had been backlogged for the last several days, and with each passing one he found himself staying later into the mornings. Day shift did little to help him, and swings didn't seem to even care.

He had been told more than once that he was the best DNA tech at the lab, yet sometimes he had a hard time believing that. Greg believed the difference came with passion for the job. Unlike Hodges, who was always looking to please others, Greg spent his energy on achieving his own goals that he had set.

He found it challenging, and rewarding when he met his goals. When he had the extra time, he often used it to research, or offered a hand where it was needed. It made it easier knowing that help was appreciated, and far more rewarding when he was able to help directly with a case.

The gang wasn't all that bad either. He and Nick had been good friends from the start. Even though they were different in appearance, they were drawn to roughly the same elements in life. They would often bicker lightly, arguing on whose team was better, or who held the highest score on the video games. Greg knew how to get under his skin, and enjoyed doing so fairly often.

With Catherine and Grissom, he had never seen a pair work so hard before. It made his hefty work in the lab seem like child's play after all they had done. Greg admired them in full respect, but didn't necessarily aim to please either of them like Hodges did. If Greg had an opinion, or disagreement, he wasn't afraid to bring it up, or point it out.

If there was any man who defined science accurately, it was Grissom. Greg would sometimes watch him in fascination, amazed how the older man could think. There was no denying that he his intelligence was far above that of most others.

Sara had been a newer addition to the group, but it hadn't taken her long to fit in. Greg had never once disregarded her; at the same time it hadn't taken long for the entire lab to notice he had a crush on her. Every night when he arrived at work, Greg would formulate in his mind a different way to greet her. Saying hello every night just wasn't enough.

Sometimes all he earned back was a simple good evening, other times a hello. Every once in a while he would get a smile, and even less often a sweet laugh from her. Then a small conversation would ensue. It was all worth it though, there was little more that Greg wanted than to get to know her better.

However these last few days had done nothing but zap him of his energy. There was hardly a time that he had gotten to see her before shift, and once they got started, it was strictly business talk. Maybe not strictly, but nearly so. Lately though, Sara seemed to be more and more distracted. Sometimes it seemed that her mind wasn't on the present day, that she was lost somewhere in thought.

If Greg had more time on his hands, he probably would have spent it wondering on this topic. His mind was constantly busy, trying to work at quick pace in order to catch up on all the work, but moving slow enough in order to do a thorough job. It was then he first smelt it, an odd, yet distinctive smell. He hadn't had much time to really consider it. As he turned around he was met with a forceful blast that sent him sailing through the glass wall behind him.

Greg woke up with a start, nearly panting as fingers twisted into the sheets that covered him. He could still smell the smoke; still feel the flames licking at his skin. A light sheen of perspiration covered his body, as he tried to slow his panicked breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he laid he glanced around the darkened room, raising his head off the pillows.

Where was he? Greg drew in another ragged breath, sighing as he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the pillows. Home, he was home, not in the hospital, not anymore. They had let him go nearly a week ago.

Slowly his grasp eased off the sheets, and his breathing became more normal, as he shook of the frightful nightmare. Cautiously he reached up with one hand, running it against his neck. He winced as it came in contact with healing burn. If his dreams wouldn't let him forget what had happened, neither would his wounds.

Sitting up, Greg swung his legs over the side of the bed, resting there for a moment. He glanced at the clock next to his bedside, noting that it was only a few minutes past noon. The light from the outside filtered past his worn curtains, giving his bedroom and eerie glow.

He wondered dimly if he was ready to go back to work. After all, he had been planning to go back in tonight, but now he wasn't so certain. If he changed his mind, all he had to do was call Grissom, certainly he would understand. He closed his eyes as the memory came back to him, curling his hands into fists as they began to shake.

Forcefully he told himself to calm down; he was getting worked up over nothing. It was over, he was okay. Why then was he still so frightened? Afraid of dreams that could not harm him, reliving the past over and over again. If only he could banish the thoughts, then certainly he would.

Opening his eyes he glanced down at his balled hands, willing them to stop shaking, to no avail. It was something he hadn't figured out yet, they shook at various times. Yet once they started, he couldn't get them to stop. They decided on their own when they would.

Greg fought down the hunger pains that were building inside of him. He hadn't eaten hardly in the last day, constantly worried about today. If he went back, where would he go? From what he had heard, the entire DNA lab had been destroyed.

Secondly, how would everyone react to his return? He would be glad to see everyone again, but he was afraid for them to see him like this. Sure, they all had stopped by to see him in the hospital. Yet that was different, it was several weeks ago, he shouldn't be afraid anymore.

Greg smiled as he remembered how they had brought him gifts and flowers, as well as well wishes. Greg glanced over to his dresser, where Sara's flowers still sat in a plastic container. They had long since wilted away, drying and crumbling, scattering their remains all over the wood, and floor below it. Still Greg could not bring himself to throw them away. After all, when would the next time be that Sara gave him flowers?

If he went back, would they all expect him to be normal again? Would they think that there was an on and off switch on him somewhere, that they could flip and have the old Greg back? He didn't need any more pity; he was ready to go back to how things were before.

He was ready for time, when that he slept, his dreams weren't plagued with memories of the accident. He was ready to be able move and sleep whichever way he wanted, without worrying about the pain from his burns. Yet it was easier said than done. If there was a switch on him somewhere, then he desperately wanted to find it. He wanted to be able to shut out the pain and fear, wanted to be able to forget what he could barely remember.

Even worse was the simple fact that he couldn't place any reasonable blame. The night that Catherine had told him what had happened, Greg had been sick been sick to his stomach. It wasn't that he blamed her; he knew it was an accident. Still, the simple thought of her sent chills down Greg's back.

He tried to shake off the feeling, standing swiftly. As long as he was up, he may as well have something to eat. Or try at the very least. He wasn't even sure if he had anything edible in his fridge. He hadn't really had the time to do any shopping, and he was already sick of ordering out.

As he assumed, his fridge was nearly empty. There was half a jar of pickles, a couple of beers and a half of a deli sandwich, which had started to grow mold. Greg frowned, eyeing the green fuzz, wondering vaguely on how long it had been sitting in there. He reached for a beer instead, deciding not to eat anything at all. At least until he got to work. Even Grissom's experiments sounded better at this moment.

He laughed at the memory, settling down on the couch. It was here that he had spent most of his time, playing one game after another. It gave him something to concentrate on, kept him distracted. Distracted was what he needed to be at the moment, he decided, reaching for the stray controller. Letting his mind wander was the last thing he wanted now.

He hadn't noticed how late it had gotten. The game had done more than distract, it had fully enveloped him. So caught up in it he was that he barely heard his alarm go off in his room. Greg hit the pause button, frowning as he looked up. The sound didn't register in his mind at first, but when it did he sat up with a start. How much time did he have?

Quickly he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. There was still over an hour left. Still plenty of time. Letting out a sigh, Greg eased himself back against the couch. Just over an hour, then he would be back at work, back in the lab…

He swallowed, already banishing the thoughts from his mind. Still he could not control the shaking in his hands. It was then Greg made the final decision. If he didn't go in tonight, then he never would muster the courage to do so at all.

Even though he had had plenty of time to get ready, Greg still ended up being late. Most of it was because his indecision. Even though he knew that he was going to end up inside the building, there were several times when he felt like turning back. After all, it wasn't too late to change jobs.

Everyone welcomed him, warm smiles and quiet questions. Catherine had even brought him a present…sort of. All of his old magazines that had been in the old lab. Most were damaged fairly well, but he was still able to glance through them. He thanked her quietly, before turning back to his work. It wasn't until she left that Greg dumped them in the garbage. He wanted nothing to remind him…

Somewhere between the lab explosion, and the time he got back, DNA had been all caught up. Whether it was from the incident itself, or out of a generous heart he wasn't sure, but he was more than grateful. He wasn't even half as fast as he once was.

That night he had been invited to dine with the rest of the group, an offer he took readily. Even if it would only get him out of the temporary lab for only a little while. It was there something changed, he felt more like himself. The first half of the conversation focused on him, everyone wanting to know how he was dong. Greg dodged most of the serious questions with jokes, doing his best to ward them off. About halfway through the conversation finally drifted back onto the case at hand. It wasn't much longer when the meal ended, and Greg returned back to the small enclosure.

It was hard to concentrate, with all the work going on across the hall. Greg found himself watching them more than his own work, swallowing silently. It was hard to believe, that just a month ago, he had been in there. Had it really been one month today since…?

He turned away, divulging himself in his work. He needed a distraction, his hands were already shaking. Taking a breath he pulled back, curling his hands into fists to try to still the shaking. Gently he reminded himself that it was over, everything was over…

Letting out a curse he flexed his fingers a few times. Grissom would be here soon, and he needed to get control over himself. Greg had paged him only a few minutes ago, but his supervisor had a knack for collecting evidence quickly. Sure enough one glance down the hall, and Greg could see him now. Quickly he turned back to his work, doing his best to calm himself down.

"You rang?" Grissom asked, once entering the lab. The door behind him shut quietly; Greg had never bothered to prop it open. Somehow, he felt safer this way.

"Uh, yeah," Greg reached over to pick up the papers that were still sitting on the printer. It took a few tries, but he was able to clear his throat enough to be able to talk. It was a good thing he had memorized the information before, otherwise he would have never been able to give his boss the results. He wasn't able to focus on the words.

Greg handed the papers to Grissom, who read it over himself, as if he wasn't sure of Greg's findings.

"Multiple puncture wounds, different depths, possibly two knives," Grissom rambled quietly, talking more to himself than to Greg.

The lab rat wasn't discouraged, as he reached across the table, "I've pulled the crime scene photos for you, too….Case still pending, murder weapon was never found. Now, the secondary blood sample came back N. be the killer. You always say murder's messy."

This was getting easier as it went along. Greg found himself stumbling less and less, hopefully enough so that his supervisor wouldn't catch on. Maybe Grissom had read his thoughts, or maybe it was the simple fact Grissom was an investigator, surely Greg really didn't think he could hide something like this from him?

"Greg, your hands are shaking," Grissom pointed out lightly.

Greg was quick to shake his head, denying it almost instantly, though he knew that it was ridiculous. Instead he took a breath, ready to continue reading, but stopped for a moment to look up at Grissom.

The older man was watching him, causing Greg to turn away quickly, wishing silently that he would go away. Grissom reached over, taking the paper from his hands. Greg was left with nothing but to do as he was told, all Grissom had to do now was ask.

"Hold out your hands."

He took a breath, holding them out watching as they began to shake even worse. Greg knew it was because he was thinking about it…he risked a quick glance over at the old lab, regretting it as it only made things worse.

"They uh…they've been shaking ever since…" he wasn't able to finish, unable to find the words so instead he pointed, hoping that it was enough. "I can't really make it stop." It was about as close as an apology as he could get.

"Is it affecting your work?"

He laughed, doing whatever he could to lighten the mood. "Well, if I was a bomb expert, maybe."

He fell silent, once noticing that Grissom wasn't laughing along with him. Clearing his throat he drew on a more serious tone. "No, I…I think I have it under control," he answer quietly.

Grissom nodded, "It'll stop. If you need me, I'll be around."

Greg watched him leave, muttering a quiet okay as he glanced back down at his hands. They were still shaking; drawing in a deep breath he took a moment to regain his composure. They didn't exactly stop, but it certainly was a lot less noticeable. He thought back to what his boss had said, already feeling somewhat better…

Never would he have gone for help, far too embarrassed to admit how much it terrified him. It was good to know that he at least had someone now that he could turn too…if the time ever came. It'll stop…he reminded himself once again. Now, if only his body would listen to his mind.

The End