Where You Are

Written By: Ms Maggs / Edited By: KJT

Chapter 7: Fever All Through the Night – Part 2

"I think Dad's pissed at his kids," Nick told Sara as they watched Greg return from his chat with Grissom. "Seriously, that's just how my father acted when all of us kids bickered."

Sara pushed beyond the squicky father-figure imagery and replied as though she weren't shacking up with 'Daddy', "Yeah, except for the baby of the family. He's the golden child."

"Can you believe he put me in charge?" Greg asked his teammates.

"No," they replied through smiles.

"Clearly the fever has affected Griss's judgment." Nick dropped a hand on his buddy's shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. "But what the boss says goes, so we'll make the best of it, and don't worry…if you start screwin' up bad, we'll tell ya." He winked. "Maybe."

"Thanks."

Nick pointed to the techs. "You've got an impatient bunch of CSI wannabes standin' over there dyin' for more field experience on their records. They're all wonderin' what to make of Grissom leavin' the scene. You better round 'em up and give them somethin' to do, or they'll start guessin' what they should do next, and you don't want that, trust me."

"Right. Thanks." Greg took off for the group that had eagerly arrived in the field when the call for all Crims with field experience was sent earlier. "Officers!" He waved for the three cops sipping coffee at the relief station to join them for an impromptu meeting. "If you could come over here too, thanks."

"This should be good," Sara whispered, feeling nervous about her pseudo brother's first foray into field leadership.

"Whatever happens, just let him work through it," Nick advised, "the last thing he needs with all that's happened lately is for one of us to rescue him. It's better for him to look clueless in front of everyone than weak."

Sara flirtatiously joked, "You're cute when you're protective, Stokes."

"I get it, Sidle." He returned the teased, "Now that Griss is shackin' up with someone, you're gonna flirt with me full-time. Okay, okay, since Catherine and Sofia have backed off, I can work you in."

"Pfft. Like you could handle a real woman."

"On second thought, I'm too young for you. You like 'em fluffy, gray, and in need of reading glasses."

Mmm, yes I do. "Stop talking, Stokes." She pointed to their teammate gathering the group. "I want to hear Greg's cherry pop."

"Okay, um..." When Greg's voice cracked, the reluctant leader cleared his throat. "Everyone! If I could have your attention! Thanks." With thirteen people staring him down, he anxiously forged on. "Grissom returned to the lab to take the lead there and has left me in charge of this scene."

Snickers and whispers immediately followed the daft statement.

"Why isn't Stokes in charge?" Carl Sanchez, a Trace Tech jonesing for a field position inquired. "He has seniority, doesn't he?"

"He's um..." Greg searched for a good answer, and when one didn't materialize, he said, "Grissom picked me, and no one argues with Grissom or his decisions, not me, not Stokes, not you. Now that we have that cleared up, here's what we're going to do…"

Standing next to Sara, Nick smacked his lips to make a pop.

"And it was relatively painless," she whispered in reply.

With his confidence building, Greg directed, "While Nick, Sara and I continue roping off grid sections, I want you to divide into teams of two and process the sections we've already established sweeping from the right to the left. Upon completion of a section, I want you to place all your properly photographed, bagged, and labeled evidence into a truck before moving on to another next section. While I know this sounds like grunt work, it's not. We never know what will help us solve a case. So take the assignment seriously, every piece of debris matters. With the drivers of three vehicles deceased, and the other two in critical condition, we have no witnesses to help us out. The evidence will tell the story, and I thank you in advance for your hard work. Any questions?" He glanced behind him and when he saw Nick and Sara holding their thumbs up, he relaxed.

"I have a question." Crumbling an empty Styrofoam coffee cup, Officer Damon Tufts grumbled, "Did you just want a bigger audience for your pep rally or what? Why did you call us off our break?"

"Sorry, I was just getting to that." Greg pointed to the top of the hill. "With the road open, people are slowing down and I noticed a few are parking and getting out of their cars. Could you extend the tape and put some extra guys up there. We're done with the road, but anything beyond the safety rail is still part of an active crime scene. Thanks."

"Yeah, we'll get right on that, boss man." Walking away with his partner, Officer Jamar Watson muttered, "Cracka has a rep for runnin' a brother down with his truck when he doesn't get his way, so we better..."

"Hey!" Nick snarled at the cops. "I heard that."

"Heard what, Stokes?"

Nick blasted the tenured officer, "Doesn't get his way? You knowthat wasn't the score. He was stopping a murder."

Sara grabbed her friend's arm. "I thought we weren't going to rescue Greg?"

"Yeah, I can handle this." Still smarting from the comment, Greg warily approached the officer. "Is there a problem? If you have a problem with me or my request, I'd prefer you tell me to my face, so we can resolve it. Do you…have a problem with me?"

"Do I have a problem with you?" Deciding the confrontation wasn't worth it, he backed off. "Nah, it was just a bad joke that I didn't intend for you to hear. Okay?" When the CSI nodded, Watson walked away. "If you need anything else, you just let us know, boss man."

When Greg saw the Techs gaping he shooed them off. "If you guys want field credit, you better get to work."

As the Techs scurried, Sara dropped her arm onto Greg's shoulders. "Nice job. Very authoritative."

"Really?" Greg glanced around to see if the cops gone. "I was too busy trying not to soil my underwear to notice. I can't believe Watson said that."

"I can," Nick slapped his buddy on the back. "That guy's an ass, always has been. It's not a racial thing either, Watson and Rick came to blows a few months back, when the idiot talked smack about Yoko. You did good, Greggo. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." Greg gushed from the validation. "That means a lot."

"Frog and Toad." A grin exploded on Sara's face.

"Frog and T..." Nick fell into a coughing fit before finishing his sentence.

"That's who you two remind me of." She explained, "Frog and Toad Are Friends, it's a children's book. It was one of my favorites as a kid." Her first foster mother, Mrs. Sweeney, had a copy and would read it at bedtime using cute voices for the characters.

"What's with people comparing me to children's book characters today?" Greg remarked while handing Nick a cough drop. "Grissom called me Charlie Bucket."

"Yeah, but who listens to Grissom?" Sara smiled at the inside joke. "Trust me, Frog and Toad fits you two perfectly." She handed over a coil of rope. "Let's go."

"I think Dad's pissed at his kids," Catherine whispered to Warrick when they received the cold shoulder from Grissom upon returning to the lab.

"I don't blame him. We sounded like a bunch of five year olds arguing on the playground."

"Except for Charlie Bucket." Catherine rolled her eyes. "I love Greg, everyone loves Greg, but come on…the idea of him being Grissom's replacement one day is laughable."

"Griss loves throwin' out that retirement BS. We all know he'll be here until the day he dies." Warrick led the way into the locker room. "He uses it for motivation. He pulled the same thing on me, remember? He was breezing out of the office with a jar of roaches to go to some conference and decided to put me in charge even though Nick had seniority and Sara was dyin' to boss people around. I didn't want to run the show. I told him I didn't, but he didn't care. I ended up having to deal with Ellie Brass. That was a nightmare."

"Remember in school, how teachers loved to call on the students not raising their hands?"

"Exactly." Warrick flipped open his locker. "Hey, I'm gonna grab a shower before I start processing the bus."

Catherine pulled a towel from her locker and joked, "I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine."

"Watch it!" Sara pointed to the darkness beyond the plateau. "Greg, you almost went over the edge when you were walking backwards."

"Whoa." He hadn't noticed how close he was. "Thanks for the heads up."

"You can't fall into that ravine, because Nick's too sick to play hero and I'm not in the mood. Where is Nick anyway?"

"As his field boss, I ordered him to take a power nap in the Denali. He was burning up." Greg smiled, "Don't tell Warrick and Catherine though. That was the only way he'd agreed to get some rest, if I promised not to tell."

"What is going on with him and Catherine?"

"I have no idea." But the not knowing was driving him crazy.

"You're a good nurturer." Sara slammed another pole into the ground and tied off the rope. "Temperature checks, tissues, a cough drop from your pocket…getting the baby to nap. You're a natural."

"Really?" He shrugged. "I don't even know I'm doing it. All those years of hardcore smothering rubbed off on me I guess."

"Did you mean mothering? You said smothering."

"No, smothering is exactly what I meant. I…" Greg whipped around. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"It sounded like an animal." He walked to the edge with his flashlight

"There are all kind of animals out here, including mountain lions." Sara pulled her gun. "Just in case."

"I really hope it doesn't come to that," he droned, "Then I'll have animal rights activist screaming at me and taking me to court."

"I promise to take the heat." They were five hundred yards away from the nearest person. "Careful."

"Shhh. I heard it again." Greg crouched at the edge and moved the flashlight's beam into the ravine. "Sara!" He jumped to his feet.

"What?!" She readied her pistol.

"There's something reflecting in the beam." He rushed to wheel one of the portable lights to the edge. "And the noise…it sounds like crying."

"Hold up! You're stuck." Sara hurried to untangle the cord coming from the generator. "Okay, now you've got some slack."

When he aimed the spotlight over the edge, he saw it. "Sara! There's a car down there. It's covered with by brush, but…"

"What?" She ran to the edge. "Oh my God. It fell though the trees."

"Shh!"

"I heard it that time. There's somebody down there." She dropped to her knees. "If you can hear us and can speak, say yes!"

They both heard the word cried out loud and clear along with the words 'help', 'bleeding', and 'hurry'."

"We never looked down here," Greg raced to tie off a length of rope to one of the generators. "That's why we didn't see it before. No one said there was another car unaccounted for in the caravan."

"Hang on!" Sara shouted in return. "Tell me your name and age!"

"J…Jenni…fourteen."

"She must have been unconscious until now," Sara turned to see Greg looping rope around his waist. "We should wait. Let me radio."

"It's not that far." He hurried to the edge.

"Really, let me get…"

"Radio for an evac chopper, grab a first aid kit and get some guys down here." When he saw the concern on his friend's face he assured, "Don't worry, I had to learn how to repel for a scout badge, I'll be fine." When she still look unconvinced, he said, "Sara…she's fourteen and terrified. Would you want to be down there alone in the dark a second longer than you have to be? If Nick were here, raging fever or not, he'd be down there already, right? I can do it. Have some faith."

"Go for it." Sara pulled her radio. "But be careful!" she shouted over the edge. "I don't want to have to deal with your mother if you get hurt again!"

"Grissom," Gil answered his cell while slowly walking around the mangled bus positioned in the garage. "They dispatched an EVAC chopper to the scene?!" He stopped. "Did someone get hurt?" His pulse notched. "Who?" When he heard it was an additional victim from the accident and not Sara, he began breathing again. "Thank you for the update. I'll call my guys and get the rest of the details."

After the call ended, he took a steadying breath and realized he was a little deeper in love than he thought. What if she had been hurt or killed just now….before he ever had the chance to tell her. I have to tell her. He shook his head in a show of conviction. I will tell her.

Soon. He punched in Sara's speed dial code. But not yet.

"Jenni…" Greg shined his flashlight into the car and gasped when he saw an obviously dead middle-aged woman in the driver's seat. "Jenni!"

"Here."

Determining the pained voice was coming from outside the vehicle, Greg ran the flashlight's beam through the rugged landscape. "There you are." The terrified girl was curled in a ball between some desert brush. "Jenni, I'm Greg, I'm with the LVPD Crime Lab." He rushed to hold her hand. "We're going to have to wait until the EMTs get here with a backboard to move you, so just stay like you are, don't move." He quickly checked for bleeding. "You have some dried blood on your head, you definitely smacked it on something, that's probably why you were out for so long. Lots of cuts and scrapes, but I don't see any active bleeding, that's good. Where does it hurt?"

"Head…arms and hands…I…I can't feel my legs." A fresh tear trail cut through the dirt on her cheeks. "I'm paralyzed."

"Try not worry. Injuries tend to seem much worse than they are when they first happen. I was seriously hurt about six months ago, much worse than you from the looks of things. I couldn't see and I couldn't move, I thought for sure I was going to be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, but once the doctors put me back together, I was fine. Between the shock, broken bones, and swelling, your body gets really stiff, that's why it can seem like paralysis. So stay positive, okay?" He stood to push back the bushes around her.

"Don't go," the girl whimpered, while weakly grasping the man's hand.

"Are you kidding? After I came all the way down here to see you, you think I'd leave? No way." He brushed her bloody, matted blonde hair. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I was just moving that jagged bush off you." He placed the flashlight on the ground so it would illuminate his face.

"I'm thirsty," she smacked her parched lips.

"I'm sure you are, you've been down here for about twelve hours." He tenderly stroked her hair. "I'm really sorry, but I can't give anything to drink in case you have internal injuries. But hey…" He reached into his coverall pocket. "I have chap stick, that'll help a little. It's never been used, so don't worry about germs." He popped off the top. "I don't want you to move, so may I?"

"Y...yes."

"I'm not really good at good at doing someone else's makeup," he joked, hoping it would help her relax, "so this will probably feel a little messy." When the girl smiled for a split second, he burst into a grin. "I see your t-shirt says Greenfield Science Club."

"I'm President."

"You should know, you're looking at a big time Chem Nerd right here. Bachelors and Masters, even thinking about going for my Ph.D. What's your favorite science?"

"Ph…physics," she answered through quivering lips.

"You're freezing. Of course you are, you're in shorts and a t-shirt and I'm bundled up." He yanked off his jacket. "Sorry, I should have done this first." He placed the jacket over her, gently tucking it around her. "Like I said, I'm a Chem Nerd, so I've spent most of my free time in labs, not on dates. Consequently I'm not very smooth with the ladies. Now, if my buddy Nick had come down here, he would have had his jacket around you before he introduced himself. I've seen the 'gentleman gives his coat to the shivering girl' move in movies a billion times too, duh, I can't believe I did that."

The warmth of the jacket soothing her, she relaxed slightly. "It's okay…you're really nice. Thank you for not talking to me like a…kid."

"You're welcome." Next he yanked off his sweater, revealing his vintage Smiths's 'The Queen is Dead' tee. "Let me put this over your feet, it'll warm them up." As he draped the sweater he remarked, "So, Physics, huh? In Junior High? That's a little ahead of the curve, you must be really smart."

"Top student," she proudly whispered.

"Cool! I'm honored to be helping out a fellow brainiac." He continued to stroke her hair and squeeze her hand. "My friend Sara, you'll meet her real soon, she has her degrees in Physics. She went to Berkeley, which she believes makes her my intellectual superior." He rolled his eyes. "I'm a Stanford man myself."

"You look…really familiar. Are you on TV?"

"Yeah, a lot of people ask me that lately," he sighed, "Do you watch the local news? I'm sure you must if you're a top student. I've been on the news a bunch of times regarding the Demetrius James…"

"Yes," she quietly replied, "that's it. Honors Social Studies…we debated…the payout and your actions."

"Seriously?" Greg couldn't believe it. "I'm a classroom current event and debate topic?" It never dawned on him that he would be, but now that he thought about it, in high school, his class had done the same thing after the Rodney King beating. "How did I fair?" he asked with trepidation. "What was the verdict?"

"Not guilty, no money."

Smiling, he said, "When you get back to school, tell your classmates thank you for me." Suddenly he remembered that fourteen of the girl's Science Club friends were dead and others were in the hospital injured and even fighting for their lives. "Do you remember how you got here, Jenni? How you got hurt?"

"No."

"That happens too, the brain doesn't want us to remember the trauma, so it blocks it."

"I…I was late for school…for the bus. My mom…had to drive me. We…" Her vocal cords desperate for liquid, she rasped, "She was honking at the bus. I…I can't remember after that."

Greg reflexively glanced at the crushed car behind him, realizing the teen's mother was dead. "Let's not worry about that right now. Let's talk science instead." Choking up on the girl's behalf he squeezed her hand with both of his. "It's not often I find a girl who speaks geek."

"Hey! Greggo!" Nick shouted from above. "Sara filled me in, are you okay?! I'll grab some rope and get down there."

"I've got it under control until the EMTs come." Greg joked with the girl, "See, I told you he's a ladies man. He's afraid I'm going to be the hero and get the girl for a change, so he's trying to barge in. We don't need him though, right? We're doing okay."

"Uh huh." In spite of the jacket's warmth, the girl shivered. "Cold."

Turning his eyes upward again, Greg yelled, "We could use some emergency blankets!"

"I'm on it!" Nick replied. "The chopper is about five minutes out. I'll be right back!"

"My mom," Jenni weakly asked as exhaustion overcame her once more, "is she hurt too?"

"I don't know," Greg lied, feeling it was the right thing to do to keep the girl calm and still. "All I know is that I showed up to the process the scene and I found you."

Growing weary, Jenni shut her eyes and spoke in a dreamy whisper, "I hope my friends had fun on the field trip."

"Eyes open, Jenni!" he panicked. "You have to stay awake."

"Shh."

"Sorry, you're not allowed to sleep when you have a head injury. That's what they told me when I was on the pavement after the beating. Gotta stay awake." He vigorously rubbed her hand, hoping it would keep her roused. "Let's see how well you know your periodic table. Give me copper."

"Copper," she mumbled, "CU."

"Good. What about sodium?"

"N…" she drifted.

"Sodium, Jenni!" He got lower, to be eye to eye. "Look at me, right here. Tell me sodium."

"NA."

"Good. Real good." Sara and Nick already had people die on them this week, you are not going to die on me. "Hang with me, Jenni. Tell me gold."

"Hey you!" Seeing Warrick appear on the opposite side of the crumpled bus, Catherine decided to take her mind off the blood soaked interior by chatting, "I'm going to buy a Wonka bar and put a gold piece of foil in it before giving it to Greg. I'll write congratulations on surviving your first field leadership experience, Charlie Bucket."

Warrick winced at the sight of a pink backpack amidst the gore. "Let's wait and see if Sanders survives the challenge."

"How could he fail with Nick attached to his hip?" Inspecting what was left of the driver's area, she asked, "Were you at all surprised at how happy Greg was when he opened that blender this morning?"

Sensing that the mother of a teenager was trying not to dwell on the fact that her daughter rides a school bus and could have died that day, he indulged her need for mindless banter. "You heard him. He likes smoothies."

"I was referring to the way he was gushing like an excited bride and not minding the razzing about being Nick's 'girl'."

"Cath, please promise me you're not going to corner Nick and tell him not to worry, that you'll still love him if he's gay and banging Greg." Warrick shook his head while readying his camera. "Because that will be the straw that breaks his back, I assure you. And I won't defend you if you do, because it's sick and rude."

"I won't, I promise." She continued snapping photos and blocking the knowledge that she was looking at the bus driver's brain spatter. "But if Greg shows up for work proudly sporting one of Nick's priceless A&M sweatshirts, that he wouldn't let me wear when I was freezing my ass off in Blue Diamond one night," she chuckled, "all bets are off."

"It'll be a cold day in hell before he'd let that happen, so I'm not worried." He crouched down to inspect a blood covered baseball, considering it an odd find on a bus full of science nerds on a field trip to study G-forces by riding the Desperado roller coaster.

"Aww, you know you love my sense of humor."

Bagging the baseball that could have distracted the driver if had been thrown up front, Warrick said, "Trust me, I've been out carousing with Nicky enough to know he's a ladies man and not the least bit interested in Greg's ass."

"No more than Grissom's interested in Sara's ass anyway."

"Sara…" In the privacy of his office, Gil spoke freely, or at least as much as his prior relationship baggage would allow. "I got a call about an evac chopper being dispatched to your scene and I…I…"

"You what?"

Her loving lilt put an unexpected smile on Gil's face. "I grew concerned, very concerned. I wanted to call to say…" He wanted to say the three little words, but couldn't get beyond the fear associated with the admission. "I wanted to say it's a relief to hear your voice, to know you're well. I can't wait to hold you later. That's all." He hoped it was enough.

"I think I know what you're saying," she sweetly replied. "I feel the same way too. You sound awful, are you feeling any better? How's your fever? Nick's burning up."

Ignoring the rapid-fire questions, he stammered, "Sara, I…I…"

"Sorry, Greg is calling me and you know I have a hard time saying 'no' to the boss."

After the click, Gil's lips fanned into a glorious smile. "I called to say I love you, Sara." He slipped the phone into his pocket. That was much easier than I imagined.

Over the roar of the evac chopper's blades, Greg directed Sara, "They have room for one of us, and I want you to go with her. So far, she's the only victim conscious enough to give us a clue. She remembers her mother speeding to catch the bus, that's an excellent start."

"You bonded with her, not me," Sara protested, dreading the idea of holding a dying girl's hand again. "You need to go."

"No," Greg stuck to his plan. "I'm in charge of the scene. I told her all about you. She loves physics, start there and build her trust, she's really sweet."

"I don't want to." Sara let her vulnerability show.

"She's not gonna die."

"And you know that how exactly?" If Grissom were here, she would be able to get out of it.

"Because there's been enough death today. Come on, they're just about ready to go." Greg stepped back so Sara would have a clear path to the chopper. "Grandpa Olaf always said…if you fall off a yak, you have to get right back on and ride."

"A yak?"

"It might have been something else, but I'm not completely fluent in Norwegian." His decision made, the boss man walked off. "Give her a hug for me!"

"I'm not a hugger!" she yelled after him. "Everyone knows that! You're the nurturer!"

"Yeah, but I'm already looking after Toad, remember?!"

Her anxiety growing with every step toward the chopper, Sara hoped for a happier ending this time.

"You made Sara do what, Greg?!" Grissom barked into his cell phone. Stepping back from the autopsy table, he blasted his ex-protégé. "She's still disturbed from that dancer dying in her arms, and you set her up for a reprise!"

"No, I set her up for a victory, Griss."

"You have no idea what the extent of that girl's injuries are. She could be bleeding internally and die on the evac ride."

"You sent me into the field solo on my first day back after the beating, I was emulating your supervisory style. I'm a sponge remember? Sorry, but I really thought it was the Grissom thing to do."

Dropping his head in his shaky hand, Gil wished he could say 'There's a lot you don't know about Sara Sidle, Greg. She's already watched one too many people die before her eyes', but he couldn't. "Your logic is perfect, let's hope your psychic ability regarding the little girl's outcome is just as sound. If not…I have to go." He snapped the phone shut. "Doc, I need to run out to University Medical Center." If the girl died en route, Sara would be a wreck.

"Duty calls, huh?"

"Something like that." Gil tossed his gloves while plotting the quickest route to the hospital.

"Look at you." Doc was taken aback by the normally stoic man's flustered appearance. "You're a wreck."

"I'll be in touch!" His heart racing, Gil hurried out of the morgue. I am a wreck, an emotional one. Dammit! This is what I get for letting her move in with me.

"I didn't do this five years ago when you were freezing your ass off, because you were a lowly plebe and unworthy, but a lot has changed, so here." Nick tossed a his heavy A&M sweatshirt at Greg. "It was in the back of my truck. Sorry, it's not washed. Probably smells like me after working ten cases, but oh well…beggars can't be choosers, and you should feel honored, because I never dole out my Aggiewear."

Chilled to the bone, Greg couldn't pull the garment on fast enough. "I don't have a problem with the smell." Instantly warmed by the feel of the soft cotton against his goose-pimpled flesh, he breathed easy. "It's perfect." He gave a quick nod. "Thanks."

The sight of his housemate in his prized alum sweatshirt made Nick dizzier than his flu-induced fever.

When Greg noticed the funny look he was getting, he glanced down at his appearance asking, "What?"

"Nothin'." Nick shook off the awkwardness. "This just feels a little weird…sacrilegious even." He pointed to the shirt. "A Stanford boy like you in my maroon, but…as long as none of my old school friends find out, I won't be killed, I'll just burn in hell for lettin' you wear it."

"Oh! I get it." After the drama of Jenni's rescue, Greg needed a laugh. "In Aggieland terms, this would mean we're hooked up, hence the sacrilege and the Bible Belt mandated trip to the eternal hellfire."

"I wasn't thinkin' of it that way, but now that you mention it, you better give it back and freeze."

"Fat chance!" Greg hurried away laughing. "I finally have something that's worth as much to you as my Plasma TV! I'm keeping it as collateral!"

"What?!" With his hands firmly planted on his hips, Nick stood in the middle of the desert shaking his head. Tonight he steals my favorite sweatshirt, what's it gonna be tomorrow? Dammit! This is what I get for letting him move in with me.

ANs:

If you think about Warrick's statement though "it'll be a cold day in hell" before Nick lets Greg wear his Aggie shirt…it really was a cold day in hell…it was freezing and the accident site was horrific. LOL yeah let's just hope Greg doesn't wear it to work because I'm sure Cath wouldn't see it that way.

The inspiration for making Greg a current event was my daughter (6th grade Honors class) coming home from school and saying they spent the afternoon discussing the guy who did the mass shooting in Virginia and what could have been done to prevent the situation from happening, should his family be responsible because they knew he was sick, etc. It made me think that Social Studies classes in Vegas would definitely be discussing Greg.

Thanks,

Maggs