Sneak Attack
Prompt for: Mandy: You should do a prompt where Greg is assaulted and won't tell anyone and becomes clingy to Nick and this annoys Nick because Greg won't tell him why.
Enjoy!
Greg sighed in exasperation as he got out of his Denali at the crime scene. Nick was still nowhere to be seen which pissed him off a little. The Texan had been late almost every scene that they've worked together and it was starting to be a little too much. He didn't want to rat the guy out since they were best friends and maybe he had a reason as to why he was late all the time, but still. More than three times was enough. What made him angrier, though, was that there was also no officer around. He hadn't done any solos since he became a CSI, but since Nick was practically always late, he was used to it. Greg grabbed his kit and camera and made his way to the scene. Someone had called it in twenty minutes ago, but the witness had used a payphone and hung up without giving a name. He assumed it was some homeless person that came across the body while digging through the trash bags. At least he didn't just leave without reporting it. Walking over to the bags, he started snapping pictures of the blonde woman with five stab wounds in her chest, arms, neck and legs. Some people were truly sick. As he continued processing the scene, he was suddenly struck from behind with something hard. The camera fell from his hands and immediately all he saw was black. Fading in and out of consciousness, it felt like someone was dragging him and they were. The street lights disappeared and his car was getting further and further away. Greg tried to struggle, but his limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate. He blacked out again and the next time he came to, he was being thrown onto his stomach and kicked repeatedly. He curled in on himself, trying to shield himself as well as see what the hell was going on.
"S-Stop, please stop!" He gasped, losing oxygen as he was kicked in the ribs over and over again.
"Shut up!" A voice hissed before turning Greg back on his stomach. A heavy weight was suddenly on top of him, not giving the blonde any chance to breathe normally again.
"What do you want? P-Please, I'll give you anything."
"Anything, huh? So that means you'll stop investigating that chick's death out there?"
Greg coughed, wheezing frantically. "W-Why…did you…did you kill her?" His cheek was squashed against the floor of wherever he was, but he could see the man's reflection in a cracked mirror. He swallowed nervously when he saw the knife clutched in the guy's hand.
"Maybe…maybe not. But that's none of your business, is it."
"It is if you want me to leave the case alone," Greg snapped back, earning a punch to the face.
"Don't ask questions, don't sass me, just do what you're told or else."
"Or else what?" Greg trembled, his face pulsing. There was suddenly a white hot pain erupting from his side and he realized that he had just been stabbed! He let out a choked cry before the man slapped his hand over his mouth to quiet him. Greg breathed heavily, trying to block out the pain; tears dripped down his face and his body weakened.
"Or else, it'll be worse than that. I stalked that girl for years, don't think I can't do it to you, too."
Sirens suddenly filled the air and Greg sighed in relief. Either backup or Nick was there; he didn't care who it was, he was just glad someone had finally got there. The knife was yanked out of his side and pressed against his throat. He could feel his own blood drip from the blade and slide down his neck.
"Remember what I said. I can easily find out where you or your CSI friends live. That's right: you tell anyone what just happened, I'll kill you and your friends. I'll let you guys process the scene, but I want to evidence to mysteriously disappear, got it?"
Greg sniffed and nodded his head.
"Good."
"Th-They're gonna…ask…questions. Especially…since I have to…go to the hospital," Greg coughed.
"Then don't go to the hospital. If you want to live, if you want your friends to live, then you better figure something out."
The weight was lifted and the blonde could hear running footsteps fading away. Greg just lay there, aching, stunned, and scared. What the hell was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? When he left, what appeared to be an abandoned building, the officer was going to ask questions: why was he bleeding, why was he crying, why was he limping, why was he leaving? Stiffly sitting up, Greg wiped his eyes, unzipped his jacket and looked down at the damage. The blade must not have gone in deep, because there was only a spot of blood. Something he could easily take care of at home…hopefully. Grunting painfully, he stumbled to his feet and walked towards the door. He emerged into an alleyway, but saw the flashing lights of a cop car not too far away.
"Sanders! I've been looking all over for you," Ackers breathed when Greg reached the crime scene.
"Sorry," he said with a forced smile. He was glad it was dark and that he was wearing a jacket so he could get away with no one seeing the stab wound. Though, it was difficult to get past the pain. He just wanted to go home. "I thought I saw someone. If I did, they're gone now."
Ackers shined his light down the alleyway. "Oh…well don't go off without someone here. Grissom would kill me if I let something happen to one of you guys. I'm sorry I'm late, though, I had to pull someone over."
"No worries."
Ackers frowned. "Are you okay, Greg? You don't look so good."
"Yeah…I think I'm gonna go home, must be a 24-hour bug. Nick should be here soon, I think."
"Yeah, go ahead. Get some rest."
Greg nodded, grabbing his kit and started walking to the car, trying to hide the limp. Just as he reached the Denali, Nick pulled up and got out of the car.
"Hey G, where are you going, we got a scene to process."
"You have a scene to process," he replied tautly, shoving his camera into Nick's hands. The irritability from the pain, getting attacked mixed with Nick showing up late and acting like he wasn't was a bad combination for him.
"What are you talking about?" Nick frowned.
"I'm talking about you being late for the hundredth time while I show up here alone to process the scene! It's irresponsible!"
"Don't be such baby, Greg," Nick scoffed. "Ackers was here."
"Not until two minutes ago. Who knows what could've happened to me!" He swallowed. What did happen to him. "I've covered for you too many times, Nick, I don't feel well and I'm going home." With that, he stormed to his car, got in and drove off, leaving Nick speechless. Greg never got mad. And the way he said 'who knows what could've happened to me' sounded different…but he couldn't place it. Something was wrong. No way was this only about him being late. Biting the inside of his cheek, the Texan took a deep breath and got to work. No sense making a fuss of it now. He would talk to the kid later.
~+CSI+~
When Greg stumbled into his apartment, he was in excruciating pain, out of breath and dizzy. He flicked on the light, blinking his eyes to focus his double vision. Breathing heavily, he shed his jacket and glanced down at his bleeding wound. He had bled a lot during the frantic ride back to his apartment and he was beginning to feel nauseous. Leaning against the wall, he made his way to the bathroom, but was suddenly knocked to the floor with brute force. He cried out, the pain from his side and his bruised ribs spreading throughout his entire body. His vision flashed white until it went away and he was staring up at a familiar face.
"W-What…how did you get in here?!"
"For me to know and for you to never find out," the man chuckled. He sat down on Greg's chest, wrapping his hand around the blonde's throat. The CSI winced in pain, gasping for air and trying his hardest to get the guy off of him.
"I saw you talking to that cop…and to the Tex. Did you say anything to them?"
"N-No," Greg gasped, trying scratch the man's hand off his neck. "I s-swear!"
The man tightened his grip, staring at Greg to make sure he wasn't lying. Greg's eyes almost rolled to the back of his head before the killer let go. Greg inhaled hungrily, curling onto his side and coughing violently.
"I told you I could get to you. See how easy it is? You better watch your back."
Through his panting, sobbing and coughing Greg heard the door open and close and he knew he was alone once more. He cried for nearly five minutes, in pain and in fear, until he realized he would bleed out if he didn't do something about the stab wound. Crawling to the bathroom, Greg sat against the wall and pulled the gauze and rubbing alcohol out from the bottom cupboard. With shaking hands, he pulled his shirt over his head and took a deep breath before pouring the antiseptic liquid over the wound. He choked, holding back the shout and the urge to pass out, until the blood was cleared. After, he sluggishly wrapped the bandage around his torso and tied it off at the end. He sagged against the wall, his body trembling. Once he calmed himself down, Greg pushed himself to his feet and grabbed some pain pills from the counter. The blonde downed a few and limped over to his bed, collapsing carefully onto the mattress. He was passed out seconds later.
The next day Greg rigidly walked into the locker room, feeling sick and exhausted. He had to play it cool. He also had to figure out how he was going to get rid of the evidence for the recent case, and in order to do that, he was gonna have to talk to Nick. He also needed a safe place to sleep because his attacker knew where he lived. Wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, Greg swallowed two more pills before going to find the Texan.
"Hey buddy," Nick said cautiously when Greg got into the breakroom. He wasn't sure if the blonde was still pissed about last night. "Look, I'm really sorry about yesterday…and all the other nights that I was late. You were right; it's irresponsible and I'm supposed to have your back."
Greg sighed. "It's okay, I forgive you. And I'm sorry for shouting at you. I was just irritated."
Nick smirked and placed his hand on Greg's shoulder, only for the blonde to immediately flinch and pull away. Every inch of his body was aching most likely from his wound starting to get infected.
"What's wrong?" Nick frowned, clearly shocked.
"N-Nothing, I'm fine…um, also I was wondering if I could crash at your place for a bit. They're, uh, fumigating our building."
Nick stared at Greg suspiciously, wondering if he should believe this or there was an underlying reason for the kid's weird behavior. "Sure man, you're always welcome at my place. But are you sure you're okay? I mean, you look a little pale."
"I'm good," Greg replied with a forced smile. "So what did you get last night? Any evidence?"
"A bunch, it's all in the layout room."
"Cool, why don't you bring me up to speed."
When they got to the layout room, Greg swallowed thickly. There was a lot of evidence; photo's, partial and possibly unreadable fingerprints, footprints, a few hairs bagged and the murder weapon that the attacker had stupidly left at the scene. His job just got a whole lot harder. How the hell was he supposed to get rid of this?
"Don't worry, bud," Nick smirked when he saw the overwhelmed look on his friend's face. "We'll get through all of this together in no time. We'll get this bastard."
Greg nodded. He felt really sick all of a sudden.
"Ready to get started?"
"Um, yeah, let me just go to the bathroom real quick."
"Sure man."
Greg quickly disappeared down the hall until he reached the bathroom. The second he was in the stall, he vomited violently into the toilet. His knees went weak and he fell to the floor, body quivering as he expelled the granola bar and juice he had this morning. He was scared…this could ruin his career. His life. Though, he may not even have a life to be protecting if he didn't do it at all. And he couldn't let Nick and the others get hurt, he'd never forgive himself. Wiping the tears from his eyes when he was done, Greg inhaled deeply a few times before composing himself and getting up from the floor. He splashed his face with water, dried it with a paper towel. He had no idea how he was going to pull this off.
By the end of the day, Greg still hadn't found a way to ditch the evidence, but thankfully he was staying with Nick. He just prayed his attacker wouldn't find him there.
"Greg?" Nick spoke warily as they got to his apartment. The kid was pale, sweaty and easily out of breath. He also looked in pain as much as he was trying to hide it. "Are you sure something's not wrong? You look like crap."
"Thanks," Greg replied sarcastically as they climbed up the stairs. He hadn't had time to replace his bandages and he knew that blood had most likely soaked through. "I'm fine…just stomach c-cramps I think." He glanced around the parking lot nervously, hoping that he wouldn't be seeing a familiar face. "Can we just go inside now?"
Nick bobbed his head and unlocked the door. Once inside, Greg went straight for the bathroom. It was getting harder and harder to hide the pain and he knew it was only a matter of time before he either passed out or needed to tell someone and go to the hospital. However, with people's lives being threatened, he veered more towards passing out. Pulling off his shirt, he peeled the bandages away to find the wound puckered and red, pus oozing out mixed with blood. Shit. It was definitely infected. He rummaged around Nick's bathroom, hoping to find clean gauze, but it was empty.
"Greggo, what's taking you so long in there?!" Nick shouted from the hallway, knocking on the door. "I ordered pizza and it's getting cold!"
The blonde cleared his throat. "Uh, almost done." He flushed the toilet before pulling his shirt back on and opening the door. He would have to do something about the wound later. Nick was waiting right outside, a weird look on his face.
"You alright?" Nick asked. He didn't think it was possible for Greg to look ten times worse in the past five minutes.
"Y-Yeah, sorry. I'm actually not that hungry, is there a place where I can lay down?"
Nick hesitated and then nodded. "The guest room is on the left. I'll save some pizza for later in case you end up wanting some."
"Thanks, Nick," Greg smiled. "Really, thanks for letting me stay here."
"No problem bud."
Nick watched as Greg walked into the guest room, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Greg was his little brother and he knew when something was wrong…and they were family, so why wouldn't the kid say anything? Didn't he trust them? Didn't he trust him? Biting his lip, the Texan sat down and ate a few pieces of pizza before going to check on the blonde. It had only been ten minutes, but Greg was already fast asleep.
"What aren't you telling me, Greggo?" He muttered, seeing a slight trace of pain etched on the younger man's face. "What's going on with you?"
~+C+~
Throughout the next few days, Greg was scared to leave Nick's side, let alone anyone's side. He felt that if he wasn't alone, his attacker wouldn't make a move. He wasn't sure if he was being paranoid, the slight fever from the infection was getting worse, or even both, but he swore he saw the man once or twice…which made him clingier to Nick and he could tell it was annoying the Texan. He wouldn't go off on his own during a crime scene and he didn't leave the apartment unless he was with Nick. The Texan was also pissed off because their evidence from the previous scene had gone missing. Greg claimed he knew nothing about it when really he had stolen the box and shoved it in his trunk, that way the killer couldn't get to it and he could also get rid of it without actually destroying it. Though now, he just felt sick and guilty about the whole thing. This was his dream job and he was taking a big risk messing with evidence; because if he got caught, life as he knew it was over. His wound was also starting to get really bad, only changing his wrappings once when he found a roll of gauze in the first aid kit at work. Nick kept asking him if he was okay since he barely ate, slept the second the finished their shifts, "secretly" popped pills and looked ill. He also kept asking when Greg's building would be ready to live in again, because frankly he was getting annoyed the kid was following him around like a dog. And the fact that Greg wouldn't talk to him about what was plaguing him was even more irritating.
"Nick," Catherine said, walking up to the Texan in the computer room.
"Hey Cath, what's up?"
"I've got bad news. Security found a tape that had gone missing the day your evidence was stolen…it turns out that Greg was the one who did it."
Nick frowned, completely awestruck. "That can't be true…are you…are you sure?"
"Unfortunately."
Nick sighed, washing a hand down his face. "Does Greg know?"
"Not yet. I need to go to a scene right now. Plus, I thought you should be the one to tell him."
"What are you gonna do after?"
"Tell the director…unless he has an explanation for doing so. He's gonna get in trouble either way, Nick."
"Dammit." He had enough of this; he was going to make Greg tell him what was up one way or another. "I'll go talk to him."
Catherine smiled sadly, patting Nick on the arm before he left to go find the blonde. He found Greg in the bathroom, gripping the sink and eyes closed, trying to breathe.
"Greg, are you feeling okay?"
The CSI shot up straight, swaying a little on his feet. He didn't know how long he had been standing there, but all he knew was that he felt super nauseous and dizzy and had to get to the bathroom before he made a fool of himself. "Yeah, I'm just tired," he replied.
"Bullshit," Nick snapped and Greg seemed startled by this reaction. "I know you're hiding something from me, Greg and I'm sick and tired of you lying to me! You look like crap, you're walking weird, all you do is sleep, you won't leave me alone and I just want to have my apartment to myself! And even worse, I find out that you stole the evidence from our crime scene we had a few days ago. What the hell is going on with you, man? And don't you dare say nothing, because I swear to god I will hit you if you do!"
"Nick I…I can't tell you," Greg replied in a small voice, never hearing Nick shout before…at him anyways.
"And why the hell not!? I thought we were friends, Greg, I thought we were family."
Greg remained silent, staring down at the ground, tears welling in his eyes. This secret was tearing him apart. Nick scoffed. "Guess I'm gonna go tell Catherine to call the director. I tried to help you man, I really did."
Greg's eyes widened. Oh no, he was gonna get fired. He felt vomit, climbing its way out of his stomach and he was becoming hot and lightheaded. "Nick wait!" He stepped forward and pain shot up his side. Shit, he forgot to take his pills. He vomited harshly before his legs folded underneath him and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Nick barely got one foot out of the door when he heard Greg throw up. When he turned around, he saw Greg fall to the floor, unconscious.
"Greg!" Nick ran back over and got to his knees, gently shaking the kid's shoulder. "Greg? Come on buddy." The blonde's shirt was stuck to his chest with sweat and his body was shivering. And then something caught his eye; the hem of Greg's shirt was up a little and he caught sight of something…a bandage. Frowning, he pulled the shirt away and gasped; the gauze was wrapped tightly against Greg's torso, but it was no longer white; it was slightly brown and one side was completely soaked in blood…old and new. His breathing was short and raspy and he was burning up; Greg must've had this for a while. Oh god, this is really bad. Nick pulled out his phone and dialed 911, making sure Greg didn't get any worse. "Jesus Christ, kid. What the hell happened to you?"
Several Hours Later
Greg's eyelids blinked open sluggishly and he was met with a bright, sun-filled room. He felt sick and his side ached, but not as bad as before. Something felt different…he felt like he was on drugs. He rolled his eyes around, recognizing the familiarity of a hospital room. Crap.
"Greg?"
Rubbing his eyes, Greg looked over to his left to see Nick staring back at him. Double crap. "Nick…what h-happened?"
"I don't know," the Texan replied a little harshly. "You tell me."
The blonde stay quiet.
"You pass out in the bathroom, bleeding from an infected wound that you look like you've had for days and you're giving me the silent treatment? The doctor said a couple more days and you could've died! How the hell could you have been so careless? Greg, please talk to me; when did you get stabbed or get broken ribs and all those bruises? Did someone attack you?"
"Nick, its fine."
"No it's not fine! Fuck, Greg tell me!"
The blonde let out a shuddering breath and looked down at his hands. "I can't, Nick. I'm sorry, but I can't." If only the Texan knew he was doing this to protect everyone.
"Fine…then tell me what you did with the evidence so you at least don't get arrested."
"It's in a safe place."
Nick scoffed. "Am I supposed to take your word for that? You've been lying to me for nearly a week!"
"I can't Nick. It's better that you don't know." But was that really true?
"Un-fucking-believable! We're supposed to be friends, maybe even brothers, but I guess I was wrong," Nick spat. "Have a nice life in prison, Greg. Don't expect me to visit you; you brought this on yourself." He got up from the chair and stalked out of the room, leaving Greg speechless and near tears. He didn't think Nick would ever say something so horrible to him, but maybe he gave the guy a reason to. He should be trusting at least Nick; he was just scared he would get his friend hurt. Biting the inside of his cheek, he decided enough was enough. Greg unhooked himself from the monitors and I.V's before pulling on his street clothes and shuffling towards the reception desk to sign himself even if was against medical advice. By the time he got into the taxi, he was beginning to feel the effects of not being on pain reducing drugs. He was out of breath, the stinging in his side was starting to come back and he was sweating profusely. The taxi driver kept glancing at him weirdly, but he didn't care. He just needed to get the evidence, get into his apartment and call Nick. He was going to tell him everything. He just hoped it was the right thing to do.
~+CSI+~
Nick swore loudly to himself when he got into the Denali. He had crossed the line with Greg. Clearly the kid was having a hard time and there was something holding him back, keeping him from telling him the truth. A friend would stay and try harder and wouldn't yell at him or say things like he had said. Scratching his head, he got back out of the car and walked into the hospital. When he reached Greg's room, however, he found it empty, a nurse putting on new sheets and pillows. He began to fear the worse; surely nothing bad could've happened in the past ten minutes right?
"Um, excuse me, what happened to the man who was just in here?" He asked calmly.
"Oh, he signed out not that long ago, although it was against medical advice."
"Why did anyone stop him?"
"It was his choice, not ours. We tried to make him stay, but he sounded insistent on leaving. Said he had to make things right, whatever that meant; sounded like the fever talking."
"Son of a bitch," Nick muttered and rushed back down the hallway. He pulled out his phone and noticed he had missed a call and had a voicemail from the very person he was looking for.
"Nick…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I should've told you, but I didn't want you to get hurt. He was gonna hurt all of us if I didn't do what he told me to do. I had to leave and make things right. Please…just come over to my apartment and I'll tell you everything. I don't want to go to jail, please just hear me out."
Who the hell was Greg talking about? Who was going to hurt them? At least Greg was finally gonna tell him the truth. He pulled out of the parking lot and sped to Greg's apartment. By the time he got there, he had called Greg twice and the man failed to answer; something bad had happened and he could feel it. Heart pounding, he rushed up the stairs and to Greg's door…it was open. Nick pulled his gun out and carefully pushed opened the door.
"Greg?"
The apartment was a complete disaster. The window was broken as were some of the chairs and the coffee table. Greg's magazines, CD's and other possessions were scattered all over the floor and his TV was off the stand, the screen shattered. Worst of all there was a bloody bat on the floor.
"Oh god. Greg!" He quickly stepped down the hall when he heard splashing and a voice coming from the bathroom. He was horrified at what he saw: a dark haired man was holding the blonde's head underwater in the bathtub…and Greg wasn't even moving. Why the hell wasn't he struggling to get out?
"Hey! Let him go!" Nick shouted.
The man turned to him, letting go of Greg. The young CSI limply fell to the floor, his face bloodied and severely bruised. There was a few huge gashes on his head and a bruise forming around his neck. He had been strangled. Unable to contain his rage, Nick ran forward and tackled the man to the ground; the two grappled for a few moments, Nick throwing a few punches and getting punched himself. It seemed to go on forever and all Nick could think about was Greg lying in the bathroom, beaten to a pulp and possibly dying. The thought of that pumped his adrenaline and he finally got the upper hand. He wrapped his hands around the guy's neck, though not too tight; he needed answers.
"Who are you?" He growled breathlessly, tasting blood on his lips.
The man just laughed.
"I'm not gonna ask you again, who are you?!"
"I told that little runt to keep his mouth shut," the brunette spoke in a strained voice. "He was going to tell you everything…so I had to shut his mouth for him."
"Keep his mouth shut about what?" Nick snapped, holding himself back from killing the guy. "What did you do?"
The man cackled some more. "He got what he deserved. I told him I'd kill him and his friends if he didn't get rid of the evidence. But since I'm caught, killing him will have to suffice."
Nick swallowed, horrified of the fact that his friend could by dead in the bathroom right now. "G-Greg? Greg, please say something buddy!" He shouted, unfortunately getting no reply.
"You were too late," the brunette smirked. "He's gone."
Nick trembled in fury and before he knew it, he was slamming Greg's potential killer's head on the ground repeatedly until he was unconscious. Wiping his bleeding nose, Nick crawled back over to the bathroom and lingered over the blonde.
"Greg?" God, he looked so pale…so still. It was wrong. His lips were turning blue and Nick was afraid to see if the guy had been right about him being too late. He pressed his finger against Greg's clammy neck and sighed.
"Oh thank god." There was a pulse; granted it was extremely weak, but Greg was alive. Was he breathing though? He hovered his ear over the man's slack mouth and his heart stopped. No air was coming out.
"No, no, no, no. Greg, come on please don't do this to me. Please don't fucking do this." He slapped the blonde's wet, beaten, colorless face, trying to get some response. Nick's bottom lip trembled. "Greggo?" He had to focus…crying wasn't going to save his best friend. Quickly, he called 911, yelling for them get over to them quickly before starting CPR. Greg's skin was so cold…too cold. He couldn't believe this fucking happened. Greg had been coerced into doing what he had done. He should've known the kid would never do anything stupid to jeopardize his career.
"I'm sorry, buddy, I'm sorry. Please come back…breathe!" Tears burned his eyes as the rescue breaths did nothing. The kid's lips felt waxy and Nick knew he was running out of time. I can't lose you man, please, I can't lose you like this. He had really fucked up this time.
~+C+~
Nick was shivering from fear and anger. The medics had finally shown up and brought Greg to the hospital, but he still wasn't breathing on his own. Nick had to watch as they shoved a tube down his throat and manually pump air into his deprived lungs. He was now sitting in the waiting room alone because he was too numb to pick up the phone and call the rest of the team. He had to calm himself down before he could do that. Running both his hands down his face, the Texan glanced at his watch, wondering what the hell was taking so long. God, he felt so guilty; for abandoning Greg when he needed him, for yelling at him, and assuming the kid was doing this all for kicks. He had been stabbed and had broken ribs and recent bruises which most likely meant Greg had been attacked not too long ago. That was why Greg was so clingy lately; he was scared the man that was basically holding a gun to his head was gonna hurt him again if he was alone. Thankfully, the cops had come with the paramedics and arrested the still unconscious perpetrator and he couldn't wait to wring his hands around the guy's neck once more.
"Mr. Stokes?"
Nick looked up from the ground and saw a doctor looking at him. Getting to his feet, he walked over to the man, trying to make himself breathe. "Yes?"
"You came in with Gregory Sanders, right?"
Nick wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. "Yeah. How…how is he? Is he breathing again?"
"Not on his own; we have him on a ventilator until his lungs are strong enough. We found a lot of water in them, it's a miracle he's alive."
The Texan could sense a 'but' at the tip of the doctor's tongue. "But what?"
The man sighed heavily and Nick knew it was bad.
"Please…what is it?"
"He's in a coma, Mr. Stokes."
"Holy fuck," Nick muttered, rubbing his forehead and his legs feeling like jello.
"There was a massive bleed in his brain, causing it to swell. We're trying to drain the fluid, but the blunt force trauma was pretty severe. He'll be lucky if he has no brain damage, however, like I said, he's in a coma and we're not sure when he'll be waking up. It could be days, weeks, and unfortunately possible for it to be months or years. I wish it wasn't like this, I'm sorry. But he is alive and he'll need to know that he's not alone."
"I can see him?" Nick replied shakily.
"Of course. There's evidence proving that coma patients can hear sounds and people talking. He should be getting all the support he can."
"Okay…I just…I have to call someone first."
"Of course, take your time. Nurse Roberts can take you up when you're ready."
Nick forced a weak smile before pulling out his phone and calling Catherine. He didn't even realize that he had five missed calls from her and two from Grissom.
"Nick where the hell have you been? I've been calling you for hours!"
"Cath, I'm sorry, I-"
"And where's Greg? Grissom needs to talk to him."
"Stop talking for a minute, please! I'm at the hospital, Greg's in a coma."
The line was silent before Catherine spoke again. "What happened?"
"It's a really long story. I'll explain it all later, but can you…can you please just get here? I don't think I can deal with this on my own right now."
"We'll be right over."
Nick hung up, rubbed his mouth and then let the nurse know he was ready to go. When they got to the room, the nurse opened the door for him.
"If you need anything, we're right across the hall."
"Thanks." He stepped inside and inhaled sharply. "Jesus Greggo." The kid's head was wrapped tightly in a thick white bandage, a drainage tube snaking out from underneath. Another tube trailed out of his mouth to a ventilator, doing what Greg's lungs couldn't on their own. His face was still deathly pale and when Nick went to cup his cheek, Greg's skin was cold. Grabbing the blonde's hand tightly, he sat down and glanced at the slow beeping heart monitor.
"I'm so sorry, G. I'm sorry I didn't do more to help you. I just assumed you were being stupid or stubborn, but I should've known better. I should've known that wasn't like you. You were struggling…hurting and held that on your shoulders for days. I should've trusted you, man and I shouldn't have been so cruel with you earlier. I was being a huge ass. I just hope you can forgive me. And in order for you to do that, you're gonna have to wake up soon." Please wake up, Greggo.
Two Weeks Later
It had been an exhausting fourteen days and Greg still had yet to wake up from his coma. He was looking small and so fragile that one touch was sure to shatter him to pieces. He had been taken off the ventilator a few days back and the swelling in his brain had progressively gone down, but nothing else changed. Nick only left his side three times and that was because he was forced by Catherine to go home before he ended up passing out.
It was around seven in the morning and Grissom and Catherine had sent Nick home an hour ago when they finished their shift.
"What if he never wakes up, Gil," Catherine whispered, stroking Greg's pale face.
"He's going to wake up. He knows we need him here."
Catherine nodded, pursing her lips and staring down at the unconscious man. "Greg, Hun, we're not mad. Just please wake up to let us know you're okay." As a mother, she knew mostly that the reason Greg wasn't waking up was because he was scared he would get punished for what he did. It was the same thing with Lindsay when she knew she was in trouble and wouldn't come out of her room. "Wake up," she whispered. She didn't like Greg like this; quiet, motionless and covered in bruises. He should be out there being a CSI and solving crimes, hanging out with his best friends and feeling safe. But they had all turned on him, assuming that he stole the evidence and not really thinking twice about the why. Greg was just a kid.
"Cath," Grissom suddenly spoke. The blonde looked up and saw him staring at Greg intently.
"What? What's going on?"
"I think I saw his fingers move. Greg?"
Catherine sat up, watching to see if Greg's face would show some emotion. And finally, his forehead scrunched up a little and a slight, hoarse moan slipped from between his lips.
"Greg, sweetie, it's okay. You're safe now; it's Catherine and Grissom."
The blonde's eyes blinked open warily and he tiredly looked at them. His fever was still pretty high so they didn't know if he was completely lucid or not.
"Greg?" Catherine said softly.
"C-Cath," Greg replied, barely over a whisper. "M's-sorry. Gris…p-please…please don't f-fire me. Swear…didn't…didn't want to…s-steal…evidence." His breathing came out in short panicked wheezes and the monitors began beeping rapidly.
"Greg-"
"D-Don't…want to…go to…jail."
"Greg!" Grissom repeated. "You're not going to jail, you're not getting fired, and you're not in trouble. We know everything. We found the evidence on your bed when we processed your apartment. We understood why you did it."
"Calm down, Greg," Catherine soothed, rubbing the man's arm. "Deep breaths."
Greg closed his eyes and breathed deeply in and out a few times. His body relaxed and the beeping slowed down. "W-Who…was it?"
Grissom sighed. "His name is Mark Aarons; he was our victim's stalker ex-boyfriend. She had a restraining order against him, even. He's going away for a very long time."
"Finished…case?"
"Yes, we did…a week ago."
Greg frowned. "What?"
"You've been in a coma for two weeks; the doctor wasn't sure when you'd wake up. It was pretty touch and go for a while since you had a bleed in your brain."
Greg looked terrified until Catherine eased him. "But you're okay now."
"Get some sleep, Greg," Grissom added softly.
Greg pressed his lips together, processing the fact that he almost died, before sinking into the pillows and letting his eyelids dip close. Seconds later, his breaths became even and deep. Catherine smiled sadly and squeezed Greg's arm. She still couldn't believe all this happened; from when Nick called her to say Greg was in a coma, to interrogating Mark and hearing him confess that if Greg didn't do what he was told, he'd kill him and the rest of the team, to now. It had all gone by so slowly; excruciatingly slow. Greg had been dealing with the burden of stealing evidence for nearly a week and no one noticed. How different were they all going to be? How different was Greg going to be?
"He's gonna be fine, Catherine," Grissom said.
She sighed. "I hope you're right."
The next time Greg woke up, he was a little more lucid, but still very tired.
"Greg?"
The blonde rubbed his eyes and blearily looked up at the shape sitting near him.
"Nick?" He coughed before scanning the room. He was still in the hospital, so it was no dream he had.
"Hey buddy," the Texan grinned. When Catherine had called to let him know Greg had woken up, he was happier than he had been in weeks. He had rushed over immediately and waited for five hours before the blonde's brown eyes started to flicker open. "How are you feeling?"
"W-Where's Cath and…and Grissom."
"They left a while ago…now you're stuck here with me."
Greg smiled a little, sitting up on his elbows and pushing himself higher onto the pillows.
"Are you feeling okay?" Nick repeated. It was a wonder that Greg had no brain damage and no memory loss, however Nick was grateful for that.
Greg shrugged. "Head kind of hurts…so does my body."
"Yeah…that guy beat you up pretty bad…not to mention you were walking around with an infected stab wound for three days that you didn't tell anyone about."
Greg sighed, staring down at his hands. "I know…I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone and that I was so secretive…and clingy. I was just scared, Nick. I was scared he was going to kill me…or kill you or anyone else on the team. He made it clear after he attacked me in my house after I left the crime scene."
"He what?" Mark had only confessed to threatening Greg, stabbing him and beating him up before he was caught…he never said anything else.
"He found out where I lived…I don't know how but…when I left the crime scene, I went home and he was there. He kicked me down and put his…put his hands around my throat." Greg brought his hand up to his neck, remembering vividly the tightness and his air being cut off immediately. "I couldn't breathe. I thought he was going to kill me right there because he saw me talking to you. He was afraid that I said something to you." A tear trailed down his face and Nick grabbed the kid's hand in comfort. "After that, I was afraid to go back to my house. I knew if he knew where I lived, he could easily find your place, but I just…I felt safer with you. With anyone; I didn't want to be alone because he would get to me if I was. I didn't want to steal that evidence; it made me physically sick just thinking about it…and the fact that I had a severely infected stab wound. I wanted to tell you Nick, I really wanted to tell you, but I didn't want anyone to get hurt. I'm sorry for being such a burden to you and for never leaving you alone. I-"
"Greg stop, you're not the one who should be apologizing. None of this is your fault. I should've done something about it…but yelling at you like I had was uncalled for. That wasn't what you needed. You needed a friend, a big brother. I'm sorry, buddy."
Greg sighed. "Well, I didn't exactly make it easy for you, but thanks for being there for me when you were."
Nick smirked, placing his hand on Greg's shoulder. "You're welcome, bud."
"So now what?" Greg huffed.
"I mean you just woke up from a coma not too long ago. I think the doctor is gonna want to keep you here for a few more days just to make sure everything's okay. Then, when they discharge you, you can stay with me."
Greg frowned. "You're not tired of me being around?"
"Of course not. I only said those things because I was annoyed as to why you weren't telling me anything. Plus your apartment is still a mess from when you were attacked and it didn't exactly get better when we processed it. Sorry."
"It's fine. I've been meaning to rearrange it anyways."
Nick smirked. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Me too. I don't remember much of what happened, though. I think I called you and then Mark came out of nowhere with a bat and started hitting me. I lost count of how many times he hit me, but I blacked out at some point. After that, it's all blank."
Nick pursed his lips. "I got to your apartment just in time. He was trying to drown you. I beat the shit out of him, though."
Greg chuckled, lying back on the pillows. "Good." He felt ten times better than he had in weeks. He couldn't wait for things to go back to normal. Though being a CSI, his life would never be normal again.
FIN
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