Author's Note: I don't like not having a posting routine... but there oughta be an update at least weekly.

Chapter Three: In Which Nick Learns More and Sara Gets Worse

Grissom and Nick stepped into the former's office to see Luis and Catherine there in silence. Both of them turned to look at Nick and Grissom. Catherine's face fell and she walked swiftly over to Nick before placing her hands on either side of his face and tilting her head down to look up into his eyes. Her hand brushed his forehead and ran through his hair before he pushed her off.

"I'm fine, Catherine," he muttered, irritably, and she withdrew her hands to her chest.

She was about to open her mouth to protest, when Luis broke in. "He's right, Ms. Willows. He is fine for now." He cocked his head to the side, taking in Nick's appearance. "You're one of the newly infected?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know."

Luis smiled. "If you were infected, you would know."

"It took Sara three days to show symptoms," Nick replied. "I was just exposed to it today. I might not have it."

"Sara…" Catherine began, holding her breath.

"Is fine," Grissom assured her. "She's with Greg. Don't worry."

"Yet," Luis added on grimly. The three CSIs turned to look at the researcher and he rose to his feet. His fingertips were pressed lightly together as he watched the floor. "This girl, this Sara, what symptoms did she have?"

"Violent coughing," Nick said evenly. "Fever. Dizziness. I think she lost consciousness in the car on the way over."

Luis nodded, as if he had heard this all before. "Blood?"

Nick took a deep breath. "Yes."

Luis looked up sharply at this affirmation. "Did you have an open wound…?"

"My mouth," he replied, still tasting the metallic tang although there was no longer any blood there.

Luis looked down again, seemingly unimpressed. For a moment, Nick's heart swelled. Maybe this meant he wasn't infected. Maybe he would be OK. Maybe he could focus on Sara, and helping her, rather than worrying about himself. Maybe he could—

"You definitely have the parasite," Luis said monotonously, dashing all of Nick's hopes instantly. Catherine seemed to stifle a sob. Nick glanced at her, but quickly looked away. He couldn't stand to see the tears in her eyes. Not when he felt his own tears, stinging the back of his eyelids like angry bees, waiting to fly out and expose his insecurities.

"What do we do?" Grissom asked evenly.

Luis looked up and shook his head, helplessly. "There is nothing you can do," he said. "Dr. Robbins and I have been working to retrace the steps I took to develop the vaccine. The vaccine comes first, and then from that we can derive the cure, to battle the parasite after it has infected a host, but…" He glanced at Nick. "It's only effective fifty percent of the time, if the parasite has already matured within the host. It's completely useless after the Plaga has reached its final adult stage."

Catherine reached out and took Nick's hand. Nick fought the temptation to pull away from her grasp. "What's…" Nick cleared his throat. "What's its final adult stage?"

"That depends," Luis told him, "on whether it is a worker, or a breeder."

"Which one does Sara have?" Nick asked.

Luis shrugged. "It is difficult to say. The symptoms start out very similar. In its early stages, both are very contagious as well." At this, Nick did yank his hand away from Catherine's, who looked almost hurt. Luis smiled grimly. "It is a blood born parasite. It is only contagious if someone comes in contact with your blood."

Nick cupped his hands over his nose and mouth. He felt nauseous, but he doubted it had anything to do with the parasite, at least not directly. "I need to sit down…"

Catherine immediately led him to a nearby chair and Grissom watched him like a hawk. He looked up at Grissom with tired brown eyes, a sudden chill dancing over his skin.

"What's the difference between a breeder and a worker?" Nick asked quietly.

"I was explaining this to your friend," Luis said slowly. "He reacted badly enough when he slammed the door, I don't want to upset you—"

"Just tell me," Nick snapped.

Luis didn't move. "A worker travels up the spine where it latches onto the brain stem in order to intercept the signals sent to your central nervous system. Meanwhile, it produces a chemical which eats away at your meninges and cerebral cortex like acid. Eventually, it gains control of the central nervous system entirely, and the host loses first his identity, followed by the rest of his brain, which, being of no use to the parasite, it eats. The host will be dead, in most senses of the word, but he will still walk, and talk, as though he were still living."

Nick knew he didn't want that to happen to him. "And the breeders, what of them?"

"Breeders tend to nestle in the chest or stomach cavities quite comfortably while they send out their eggs into the blood stream in order to incubate them. Once the eggs hatch, after about two weeks, they will begin to swim back towards their mother. Depending upon where the parasite has taken up residence, the host will, at first, feel pressure in this area, as if either a weight is pressing down on them or something wants to burst out of their body. This feeling will only increase as the days progress and the parasites gather with their mother where they will begin to eat their way out of the host, sometime in week three or four. The host is generally dead by the end of the fourth week."

"Those corpses we found…" Grissom murmured. "They had holes in their stomachs. You're not telling me—"

"Yes, Dr. Grissom," Luis interrupted. "It is a much more painful way to die, to be eaten from the inside. Unfortunately, the host is conscious for most of it."

"How do we find this cure?" It was the first time Catherine had said anything since Nick and Grissom's arrival.

"I'll need Dr. Robbins' notes," Luis said. "From what I hear, he's very close." He turned to Nick. "I have found the cure once before, I can find it again. I won't make any promises, but I'm fairly sure I will be able to help you."

Nick nodded absently. "You guys go see Doc Robbins," he said. "I'll… stay here."

Catherine took a step towards him. "Nicky…"

But he held up a hand, successfully stopping her in her tracks as well as if he'd have physically restrained her. "Don't, Catherine. Please, just… don't."

She didn't seem to know what to do, and they were all frozen there in a strange tableau of uncertainty, until a knock at the door broke the tension. It opened to reveal Warrick, and Nick envied him for his ignorance.

"Great, you guys are back," he said, smiling exhaustedly. But the smile slowly faded as he felt the somberness radiating from every person in the room. "What's wrong?"

Greg felt guilty about biting into his hamburger when Sara only sat there staring at her untouched veggie burger. He had so many questions, but still had the presence of mind to swallow before he asked them. "You said you were hungry."

"I'm not anymore."

"Did you happen to binge on some secret veggie egg roll stash on the way over? Or did you just eat the interior of your car?" Greg tried to smile. It was hard.

But she just shrugged and stared at her hamburger. "No, I just… lost my appetite."

Greg put down his hamburger and looked at her seriously. "You have to tell me what's going on. Do you and Nick really have this thing inside you?"

Sara wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she continued to stare at her food. "Yeah..." she said absently. "Yeah, I'm sick."

"And Nick?" Greg pressed, his heart already caught in his throat.

She blinked and looked up at Greg. "What about Nick?"

"Is he sick too?"

"No, why would he be?"

Greg thought about that for a moment. "Grissom told Catherine that he was."

Sara's brow was furrowed in curiosity. "I don't think he… I don't know why he would be."

"Maybe he's not," Greg said quickly. "Which is good. It's just… one less friend I have to worry about losing."

She looked away from him. "Please don't say that, Greg…"

Greg looked down at his own plate. "Luis Sera told me that… told Catherine and I that... You'll only have three to six weeks to live."

She slammed her hands down on the table. "Dammit, Greg, why do you have to talk about this?" she snapped. "Do you think I want to listen to this? Really?!" She took a deep breath and calmed down, looking off to the side. "I just wanted to go out and get something to eat."

"And yet you aren't eating."

"Bite me."

He pursed his lips. Obviously he had taken the wrong course of action. He tried a different approach. "OK… What do you want to talk about?"

She shrugged. "Anything," she said.

"Well then—"

"Anything but that."

He sighed. "Look, I'm just—"

"I know what you are," Sara interrupted in a low, sharp hiss. "You're worried about me. You want to know what's going on. You're confused. You're curious. But Greg, do I look sick to you? I'm fine now, so there's no need to worry, because maybe it just went away, I mean the doctors said it went away, it's just Grissom and that stupid researcher who said it didn't go away and I just…" She closed her eyes then opened them again to look over at Greg. "I just want to pretend… if only for a little while… that Grissom is wrong."

Greg was silent as he looked down at his food. Suddenly he, too, had lost his appetite. Because he knew she was absolutely right of course. His horrified curiosity would only make things more difficult for her, and no matter how much he wanted answers to his so many questions, he shouldn't ask them. Because she was more scared than he was.

He looked up at her again and forced a grin, hiding away his true fears behind a façade of goofy optimism. "So I was at this crime scene the other day," he began loudly, cheerily. "And you'll never believe what happened."

She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Greg."

He returned the smile and continued with his story. "There was this little kid who thought he had discovered a dinosaur bone, right, because it was so…" He trailed off. Something was rattling and Greg's eyes gravitated to Sara's hand, which was quaking on top of the table. His eyebrows instantly knitted together. "You're shaking."

She blinked. "No I'm not."

He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. It continued to tremble. She looked down at her hand, then up at Greg again, utterly bewildered. She opened her mouth.

"Don't," Greg said, clinging tightly to her hand and he looked at her. "It's just a little shake. I was just getting used to this pretending thing."

She tried to smile, but she closed her eyes and flinched. Her hand was clammy underneath his, and he saw a bead of sweat drip down the side of her temple. "Greg—"

He was immediately on his feet and nearly vaulted the table between them in an effort to get to her as fast as he could. He pulled her into his arms, the side of her head resting against his chest, and she continued to quake. His hand shot to her forehead, which was burning up. Another fever, and now her body was seizing as well. This was only getting worse.

By now, they had attracted the attention of everyone else in the restaurant, and a waitress was standing there staring at them with a tray held up in the air with one hand. "Go call an ambulance!" Greg snapped at her, and she nodded quickly before dashing off.

Sara was clinging tightly to his arm, still trembling like crazy. "Greg…"

"Sh…" he whispered, stroking her hair. "Hang on, OK? They're getting an ambulance."

"Not Desert Palms…" she breathed.

"Why not?" Greg asked.

"Just… not!"

"OK! OK, we'll take you to Mercy… just… be strong, OK?" He held onto her tightly as she squeezed the life out of his arm.

"I don't…" Tears coursed down her cheeks. "I don't want t-to…"

"Hush," he soothed. "I don't want that either."

"Grissom…" she choked.

"I'll call him," Greg assured her. "I'll call him, just…"

"It's so hot…" she breathed. She jolted in his arms and Greg panicked. He needed to cool her down, if he couldn't stop her shaking.

"Sara? Sara, can you hear me?"

She didn't respond as she convulsed in his arms and he knew that it was a full blown seizure. He gently laid her down on the floor, her head in his lap, before he grabbed the pitcher of water on the table and dipped a napkin in it before lightly dabbing at her head. He seized her wrist and checked her vitals, unbuttoning her sleeves and tilting her head to the side.

"Come on, Sara…" he pleaded. "Come on, you're scaring me…"

And then, finally, the paramedics arrived and pulled Greg away from Sara, and he could do nothing but watch them work as she continued to seize. Greg pulled out his cell phone and dialed Grissom immediately.

"Grissom."

"Yeah, um…" He realized his voice was shaking and he swallowed. "Sara's… Sara is..."

"What happened, Greg?" Grissom was brisk and to the point.

"I don't know, I mean, one minute she was fine and the next…" he trailed off. "She, uh, she started shaking, and then she had this fever and… now she's gone into convulsions and I don't know what to do. Grissom, she was so hot…"

Grissom was quiet a moment. "How is she now?"

Greg shrugged, becoming more worried now. "She's still convulsing. It's been almost four minutes."

But just as he said it, she stopped shaking, and Greg could now discern her chest rising and falling, her eyes closed. The paramedics lifted her onto a stretcher and looked over at Greg.

"Does she have any prior medical conditions?" one of them asked.

Greg shook his head, and then stopped. "I-I mean, I don't really know, but… I think it was the fever."

"It was exceptionally high," the medic agreed as his coworkers took Sara outside. "We're going to take her to Desert Palms."

"Go to Mercy," Greg said quickly.

The medic frowned. "Mercy is twenty miles further away from here than Desert Palms. We're taking her there."

"No, she asked to go to Mercy," Greg insisted. "Please. She's stopped seizing, she should be able to take the trip."

The medic pursed his lips. "Alright," he said. "We'll take her to Mercy."

"Did I hear they're taking her to Mercy?" Grissom asked as Greg watched the medic run out the door.

"Yeah, for some reason Sara didn't want to go to Desert Palms."

Greg could hear the pride in Grissom's voice. "Good girl… There's something off about the doctors at Desert Palms. Alright. Alright, I'll send Nick and Warrick over there. Catherine and I are on our way over to Dr. Robbins' to speak with him. I'll call you later to see how things are going."

"OK," Greg was nodding, though he knew Grissom couldn't see him. "Sure, will do. Bye."