Happy Enough by SLynn

Disclaimer: Any character you recognize, not mine.

Chapter 4: Too Soon

"What happened to you?"

These were the first words out of Warrick's mouth as Greg made it back to work nearly two days later on Thursday night. No one had seen or heard from him since he'd come in on Tuesday.

He knew the baseball hat wasn't going to cover his eye, but he'd hoped it would at least shade it. Of course, once more, he'd been wrong. He took it off and gave up trying. What had he really expected? These people were all trained to notice the details.

"It's nothing," Greg said trying to brush it off, hoping the meeting would just start soon before everyone else could gather round and start gawking.

"Hey Greg," Sara said coming in. Her voice changed from jovial to serious in a second, "What happened?"

"It's nothing," he repeated and then stressed. "Really."

Grissom, Nick and Catherine all showed up at once, as Greg tried to shrink himself into the corner.

"Okay, let's talk assignments," Grissom began before the other two could ask the only question on everyone's mind.

Greg knew what he looked like. He'd seen himself in the mirror, half-swollen black eye and all. He'd spent most of the day wondering how he was going to get around explaining it to everyone. Avoiding it was definitely not going to work. This was turning into the worse week of his life. Yesterday he'd spent nearly eight hours being prodded and poked at with needles and giving way to many specimens of his various body fluids. And that was the highlight. Today just had to be better, statistically it couldn't be worse.

"Greg?"

Grissom's voice brought him back to reality. That and everyone looking at him. He hadn't realized the meeting had been taking place around him or that he'd gone off into space. Obviously he'd been asked something. Probably twice. He just had no idea what it was.

"I… um… yes."

"Is that a question or an answer?"

Greg hated when he did that.

"An answer?"

"You don't know?"

"No."

"No you don't know or no that wasn't an answer?"

Greg took in a breath, completely confused. Worse still was the looks on everyone else's faces staring back at him as he floundered.

"I asked you to explain what prompted you to photograph the tool rack in the barn on Monday night."

"Oh," Greg said somewhat flushed, "I just noticed that it was kind of clean, well cleaner then everything else. Like it had been used recently."

"What else?" Grissom asked.

'Before or after I fainted?' Greg wanted to say, but didn't.

"Blood. There was a small amount of blood that wasn't dried underneath."

"Good," Grissom said and then continued on the same line. Greg struggled to pay attention for the next half hour. Grissom rehashed the current cases and handed out the assignments.

"Okay everyone, let's get to work," he said as they all stood to leave. Nick and Catherine both were making there way towards Greg when once more Grissom spoke. "Oh, and Greg? Come see me in my office."

Happy to have an escape, even if he wasn't happy were he was going too, Greg left arriving not long after Grissom himself.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked from the door.

"Come in and shut the door behind you."

No good conversation had ever started with those words. The odds were definitely against him but Greg did what he was told.

"I got a call from Brass earlier. He said that you were involved in an altercation last night."

Greg nodded and looked down. Yep, statistics or not, today was going to be worse then yesterday.

"I can explain that."

"I hope so," Grissom said looking up at him very seriously.

"My girlfriend and I broke up this week. She wasn't too happy with me and…"

"Your girlfriend did this to you?"

"No," Greg not sure which part of that statement offended him most. Grissom implying that he'd hit a woman or Grissom implying that a woman could knock him out. "Her new boyfriend did."

"Greg, I think you're doing a great job here. I really do. But, I think I need to remind you that as a member of this team you have to be more careful in all aspects of your life. You can't afford to put yourself in these types of situations. One arrest, even if the charges are dropped and you will be fired."

"It wasn't that serious."

"The cops were called."

"That was my landlady. She thought… well I don't know what she thought. I didn't even file a report, how did Brass know?"

"Word gets around."

Greg nodded.

"Am I on probation or something?" he asked, honestly concerned for his job.

"No, I'm just looking out for you."

Again, Greg nodded.

"Is there anything you want to talk to me about?" Grissom asked after another minute's scrutiny.

"Did you read my medical file?" Greg found himself asking without meaning too.

"Why would I do that?"

"I just thought, after the attack you might wonder. And my doctor said you faxed it over, so I don't know, I thought you might have."

"That's illegal Greg. I had it faxed over because I thought it might help."

Greg was starting to feel like one of those wobbly headed dolls with all the nodding he was doing.

"Anything else?" Grissom asked.

"No," Greg said standing and making his way out the door without another word. He only made it half way to the locker room before Nick found him.

"Don't ask me if I'm okay," Greg cut him off.

"I wasn't going to," Nick said non-defensively. Greg didn't believe him. "Sara's looking for you though. You and her are suppose to be going through the case photos from the crime scene on Monday."

"Yeah, sure. I'm on my way." He said with a less then enthusiastic smile.

Nick returned a more honest one and left. Greg trudged on, finding Sara in the south conference room, photos already laid out before her.

"What are we looking at?" he asked sitting down next to her.

"Well, I thought we'd go over the murder scene first. See if we noticed anything odd and then move on to the rest of the house before we start outside."

"Still nothing then?"

"Nope, the blood you found has so far been the only that was not either of the victims. Couple of hairs, but that'll take another day to get back the results. The lab is swamped."

"I could go run them."

Sara seriously considered it. She knew Greg was training for field work. Knew that he should be here, going through the motions with her and not retreating back to where he was more comfortable, but she also knew that he was the best technician they had.

"No," she finally decided. "Let someone else take that. I want you to look at this picture and tell me what's wrong with it."

Greg took the picture. As he did he realized he hadn't yet even seen the victims, having only gotten no further then the barn that night. Looking now, he thought he understood why maybe Grissom had kept him out initially. It was a massacre.

The picture was of the bedroom. Both of the victims lay side by side and didn't appear to have struggled. There was blood splatter on the head board and all of the surrounding walls. Only Doc Robbins would know whether or not they died instantly or bled out, either way it didn't look like a nice way to go. But then again, was there a nice way to go?

Greg continued to stare at the picture, Sara looking up at him now and then. Maybe this was better; at least you didn't know it was coming. There was no way that these two people went to bed that night thinking that this was it. There was no tomorrow. They didn't have to spend days wondering what their fate was. Even if they say it, no one really wants to know how they'll die. How could you live with the knowledge?

At least they got to die in their own bed. Beside someone they loved. Not in some sterile hospital like…

Abruptly Greg stood up.

"Find it?" Sara asked, his sudden movement barely registering. She'd long grown use to his odd behavior to be unsettled by something as simple as him standing.

"No," he said shortly, putting the picture face down on the table. "I've got to go."

"Why?" she asked only to see him retreating from the room. "Greg? What is it?"

He got out of there as fast as he could, hoping he'd get out of sight before she followed. 'What's wrong with me?' he mentally berated. Greg knew he was supposed to be learning and trying to figure out who killed these people but all he could do was worry about himself.

It was selfish but he couldn't help it. All he'd done for the past few days was worry. Knowing that worrying was pointless did not ease his mind any and hadn't stopped him even once. Worrying wouldn't change the facts one way or another, but it could prepare him.

Greg found himself on the roof not really sure how he'd gotten there.

He tried clearing his mind, not thinking about it for a few minutes but it didn't help. He knew he didn't have to face all of this alone, in the very least he could call his parents, but he hadn't wanted to scare them. They'd been through enough of this the first time around. He wouldn't find out for certain until Monday if the cancer was back, if he'd relapsed. If he had, then he'd call.

But his friends, his friends were here now and they knew something was up, he just couldn't tell them what. Greg couldn't tell them for the same reason he didn't tell anyone who didn't already know. That look. That look people gave you when you said cancer. It was this mixture of pity and fear, like it was contagious. It was a look that made him feel like he'd already died, like they were mourning you too soon.

And he didn't want to see it. Not again.