The Nature of Disbelief
By Clarity Scifiroots
Regular disclaimers apply.
Fandom/Characters: CSI Las Vegas – Greg, Gil (no slash)
Rated: All. One swear word p
Summary: A return to the idea that Greg has the "Sight" (as mentioned in the episode "Supernatural").
May!fic 15 of 31
--
There's something bothering Greg tonight. It's a strange feeling making his fingertips tingle and the hair on his nape stand on end. He's not sure how to explain it.
As a kid he had feelings like this regularly, but that was when Nana and Papa were around to touch his shoulder and talk him through it. With their help he could figure out what it was. There'd been that time he'd felt anxious about a field trip to the zoo, and Papa told him to be careful but there was no way he'd be able to stay home. Greg stuck his hands behind his back and shied away when the kids went to the area where they could pet the animals. The resident bully, Jake, pestered a racoon and a kid next to him reached out to stop him and instead got bit for her trouble. Then there'd been the time he fell suddenly sick at school and when he came home he found out that his Nana's best friend had passed away.
Greg knows he needs to pay attention to these feelings. He just wishes he had someone around to guide him through it, sort out what is his paranoia and what made some sense. Problem is, he's surrounded by scientists now—is one himself—in one of the country's best forensic labs. Unlike him, his coworkers are not much impressed by the paranormal.
--
Gil's slipping on his jacket when Greg knocks hesitantly on the door. "What is it Greg? I'm heading out on a call."
He notices that Greg's hands are stuffed deep in his jeans' pockets. Uneasiness virtually radiates from his posture of hunched shoulders and bowed head.
"Ah, sorry... I mean..." Greg sighs and looks up at Gil from under the fringe of his bangs. "I... get these feelings sometimes. And I kinda have a history of them relating to actual events..." He trails off and shrugs uncomfortably. "Tonight I just feel like, y'know, something's gonna go wrong. Maybe the scene's not clear, or someone dies, or, I don't know, some freak accident—"
"Greg, please." Gil steps forward and places his hands on Greg's shoulders. "Slow down."
"I'm sorry," Greg mumbles. "I know it's stupid."
Gil remains silent, staring intently at the young man in and considering his words.
"Is there anything I can say to convince you that this is probably just anxiety? I know you haven't been back at the lab—"
Greg's irritation is clear as he tugs away and protests, "It's not about the lab explosion! I've had these feelings all my life. I don't know what to do about it, but it's getting worse and I—" His breath comes out in a huff of frustration. "I'm just saying you might wanna be extra alert tonight." He meets Gil's gaze with a serious stare.
"Please," he says. "It took a while but, ah, I think it's about you..." He turns away and shuffles out the door.
"Greg," Gil calls, following him.
Greg's a few steps down the hall. He turns his head back, expression shuttered. Gil catches up to him.
"I'll have Warrick or Brass with me on this one. We always keep a good eye out." He doesn't promise to be particularly careful tonight because he can't. He does as he does every night and can't bring himself to believe in extraordinary theories of ESP or telepathy.
Greg looks away with a nod and Gil knows the other man could see his doubt.
--
Greg's forced himself all night to focus intently on running his DNA tests and going the extra mile to push the information even further for the CSIs. He pointedly does not regularly check the corridors for Grissom's or Warrick's return.
He gets up at one point to stretch and rub at his sore neck. Out of the corner of his eye he catches movement and quickly turns his head to locate on the source. Catherine strides past the windows with a pinched expression and phone pressed against her ear. He feels like there's a gaping pit where his stomach used to be. Shit.
--
It's just a graze, Gil defends when first Brass and then Catherine badger him about getting too caught up while processing the scene. He knows Brass isn't letting the uniform who'd supposedly cleared the scene get away with a simple slap on the wrist.
Gil's exasperated by the worried looks his colleagues give him when he comes in the following night. When Sara gets the look in her eyes that says she's ready to throw down her life, and anything else she can, for him, Gil quickly pairs her off with Nick. He decides it might not be a bad idea to take care of a little paperwork.
Barely an hour alone and someone knocks on his door. With a sigh, Gil says, "Come in." He pulls off his glasses and rubs his eyes warily.
"Hey. So I hear it's not too bad?"
Gil starts, quickly opening his eyes to find Greg standing a few steps inside. The lab tech wears a sloppy smile, not quite genuine. The sympathetic look in his eyes is far more muted than most of the others' Gil's seen since getting shot.
"Just a graze," Gil replies automatically. He continues staring, a memory of Greg's jumbled explanation from the night before tugging at the back of his mind. Skeptically he asks, "How're you feeling?"
Greg blinks, caught off guard. "I'm fine!" he says. A moment later realization dawns and he continues, "I, uh, was a little freaked before I knew the details. But, ah, the feeling kinda faded off shortly before that."
Gil leans back and considers this. Greg shifts uncomfortably and looks around the office, avoiding Gil's gaze.
Eventually Gil says, "Let me know if something like this comes up again."
Greg looks at him, eyes wide as if to ask "really?" Gil smirks. Greg stammers, "Right, okay. Ah... thanks, Grissom." He turns to go. At the door he glances back and offers Gil a smile.
Gil drums his fingers on his desk, pondering...
-- --