Greg turned a chair around and straddled it, looking at his co-workers.
"Okay, guys, I know you've got to be about bursting with questions. So go ahead and ask. I'll answer what I can."
The CSIs looked at one another, then Nick finally spoke up with the question burning on all of their minds.
"Why didn't you ever tell us?"
Greg pondered the question and thought to answer with the quick and easy quip of 'you never asked', but changed his mind. For nearly twenty years he had lived with this. It was time to face his demons… all of them. He would start today. Now.
"That's not an easy question to answer," he said thoughfully. "In part, because I didn't want the questions. But that ties into not wanting to fully face it."
He sighed deep and continued.
"I've tried to deal with it. Grissom can tell you about the depression I fall into when I have to think about it, let alone talk about it. He's seen me pull into myself, then battle to get back to normal. And for his patience, he has my gratitude. Finally, a couple years ago, I started seeing a shrink. But I just wasn't ready yet to let loose the thing that hurts me most."
Looking into each CSIs face, he pulled himself up straight and stated as much for himself as for them.
"I'm ready now."
He nodded to the room at large and said, "Next question."
Catherine next asked, "Just how badly were you hurt?"
"I was stabbed once in the shoulder, once in the chest, two times on my right thigh, and once in the stomach. The shoulder and thigh healed with no problem. The stomach wound actually managed to miss my major organs, but one of stabs in the chest nicked my left lung. I was in the hospital for six weeks, while the reparations to my lung healed. The worst has been the psychological damage. I had nightmares every night for three years. They slowly faded, but it made it impossible to do normal everyday things like camp out with friends when I was a pre-teen. I freaked them out one night when I woke everyone up screaming and they couldn't get me to wake up."
Warrick asked the next question, "Is that why you wear a tank top when we go to the pool? I always thought it was some weird fashion statement."
Greg grinned and said, "My fashion statements are never weird," as he pulled his hair up and out to spike it a bit more. Then sobering, but keeping a sadder grin, he said, "Yeah. That is why I wear a tank-top. The stab wounds on the thigh and shoulder didn't leave much of a scar, but I have a huge scar running down my chest and belly because of the surgery."
Sara, who had been sitting back and listening finally spoke with a quiet question.
"How can you do this job, Greg? How can you stand to see the damage done to the innocent victims?"
Greg knew this answer. Because it was a question he'd asked himself more than one.
"Because I don't want to be a victim, Sara." Straightening his shoulders, he looked into her piercing eyes. "I bleed for the victims we see come through the doors, whether they're on their feet or coming in under a sheet. But I don't want to be a victim, and because I can help them in some small way find justice."
At this, Grissom's quiet statement filled the air.
"What you do is not small," Grissom pronounced. "If it weren't for you and your drive to do the job right, we would never be able to close the cases and let the innocents move on. Don't ever think what you do is small, whether it's out in the field or in the lab."
Everyone sat silent as Grissom's remark filled the room.
Suddenly, Greg grinned, then began laughing. Pretty soon his shoulders shook and he doubled over. No one moved, for fear that Greg had finally snapped from the shock of the day, until he looked up with tears of laughter spilling down his face and laughed out, "My God, I think he gave me a compliment!"
Pretty soon, Nick's mouth began to twitch, followed by Warrick, then Catherine, and Sara. Laughter began to fill the room. Dan grinned and looked at Greg and his friends. Grissom just rolled his eyes.
"Okay, guys, I know you've got to be about bursting with questions. So go ahead and ask. I'll answer what I can."
The CSIs looked at one another, then Nick finally spoke up with the question burning on all of their minds.
"Why didn't you ever tell us?"
Greg pondered the question and thought to answer with the quick and easy quip of 'you never asked', but changed his mind. For nearly twenty years he had lived with this. It was time to face his demons… all of them. He would start today. Now.
"That's not an easy question to answer," he said thoughfully. "In part, because I didn't want the questions. But that ties into not wanting to fully face it."
He sighed deep and continued.
"I've tried to deal with it. Grissom can tell you about the depression I fall into when I have to think about it, let alone talk about it. He's seen me pull into myself, then battle to get back to normal. And for his patience, he has my gratitude. Finally, a couple years ago, I started seeing a shrink. But I just wasn't ready yet to let loose the thing that hurts me most."
Looking into each CSIs face, he pulled himself up straight and stated as much for himself as for them.
"I'm ready now."
He nodded to the room at large and said, "Next question."
Catherine next asked, "Just how badly were you hurt?"
"I was stabbed once in the shoulder, once in the chest, two times on my right thigh, and once in the stomach. The shoulder and thigh healed with no problem. The stomach wound actually managed to miss my major organs, but one of stabs in the chest nicked my left lung. I was in the hospital for six weeks, while the reparations to my lung healed. The worst has been the psychological damage. I had nightmares every night for three years. They slowly faded, but it made it impossible to do normal everyday things like camp out with friends when I was a pre-teen. I freaked them out one night when I woke everyone up screaming and they couldn't get me to wake up."
Warrick asked the next question, "Is that why you wear a tank top when we go to the pool? I always thought it was some weird fashion statement."
Greg grinned and said, "My fashion statements are never weird," as he pulled his hair up and out to spike it a bit more. Then sobering, but keeping a sadder grin, he said, "Yeah. That is why I wear a tank-top. The stab wounds on the thigh and shoulder didn't leave much of a scar, but I have a huge scar running down my chest and belly because of the surgery."
Sara, who had been sitting back and listening finally spoke with a quiet question.
"How can you do this job, Greg? How can you stand to see the damage done to the innocent victims?"
Greg knew this answer. Because it was a question he'd asked himself more than one.
"Because I don't want to be a victim, Sara." Straightening his shoulders, he looked into her piercing eyes. "I bleed for the victims we see come through the doors, whether they're on their feet or coming in under a sheet. But I don't want to be a victim, and because I can help them in some small way find justice."
At this, Grissom's quiet statement filled the air.
"What you do is not small," Grissom pronounced. "If it weren't for you and your drive to do the job right, we would never be able to close the cases and let the innocents move on. Don't ever think what you do is small, whether it's out in the field or in the lab."
Everyone sat silent as Grissom's remark filled the room.
Suddenly, Greg grinned, then began laughing. Pretty soon his shoulders shook and he doubled over. No one moved, for fear that Greg had finally snapped from the shock of the day, until he looked up with tears of laughter spilling down his face and laughed out, "My God, I think he gave me a compliment!"
Pretty soon, Nick's mouth began to twitch, followed by Warrick, then Catherine, and Sara. Laughter began to fill the room. Dan grinned and looked at Greg and his friends. Grissom just rolled his eyes.