Happy Enough by SLynn

Disclaimer: Any character you recognize, not mine.

Chapter 13: Falling Down

Greg got home just after midnight to find his mother asleep on the couch. Unwilling to give in so easily he slept in the recliner until it was time for his two a.m. medication. Not able to sleep afterwards, he sat down and did another quick internet search for apartments in the area.

At just before five he dozed off again in the recliner and was awakened not long after by the smells of breakfast.

"Where'd this come from?" he asked, completely confused at the types and sheer amount of food his mother was now preparing in the kitchen. "And who's coming over to eat it all?"

Maggie laughed.

"You're skinny."

"I've always been skinny, I don't remember you ever cooking for ten to try and compensate."

"I thought you might want some breakfast."

Greg plopped down in the nearest chair. Truthfully, breakfast was the last thing he wanted. Nothing sounded appetizing to him but still he humored her and took a little of everything.

"Are you going to tell me?" she asked, sitting down beside him, just a cup of coffee for herself.

"What?" he asked in return, mouth full of food that was making his stomach rumble but not from hunger.

"How come you don't work there anymore? Did you quit the lab? You loved it there."

Greg rolled his eyes and grew fascinated with his breakfast.

"I didn't quit."

Maggie fixed him with one of her looks that told him that he'd better start explaining.

"I got promoted."

"Promoted?" she asked, mildly surprised. "To what? Greg, you're a chemist. What could they possibly…"

She stopped, understanding now.

"I just started," he said putting down his fork in favor of coffee. It wasn't a complete lie. He had just been promoted. His mother didn't need to know he'd been working for it for nearly a year now, out in the field exposed to all the dangers she could imagine.

"So you're doing field work. With the police?"

"Yes."

She nodded and said nothing more. Maggie knew what that meant. He'd have a gun too, would technically be a part of the police force. It made her very uneasy.

"I'm not doing it now," he said, trying to reassure her as best he could. "My doctor doesn't want me in the field because of the medication. I'm still mostly doing stuff back at the lab."

She smiled weakly at him and got up beginning to clean the dishes. Now was not the time for this. She could bring it back up again later and maybe even work up the nerve to ask him about his bruised eye. She knew from experience not to pry too much or push to soon. Greg bluffed big, talked big, but was actually very reserved.

"So," Greg tried again, "I need a new place. Thought I'd start looking today and could use your opinion."

"Is that why there are all these boxes?" she asked, willing to drop the previous conversation and move on if he was. "You go through apartments like they were socks."

Greg smiled glad for once not to get the usual twenty questions about why he was moving again. Maggie and Jeff had mostly chalked it up to his semi-nomadic instinct. Even as a child Greg had never liked to sit still.

"Have you made up a list?" she asked, and then laughed. "Look who I'm asking. Of course you have."

"Still a firm believer in it," he said laughing, holding up his latest. "I'm just going to go get ready and we can go."

Maggie said nothing as he took off to take a shower and probably take his medicine. Listened as he shut the bathroom door behind him before sitting down herself, frustrated and tired.

Greg turned on the sink to drown out the sound. He was going to be sick again. Could feel it but didn't want to worry his mom. After what seemed an eternity, it finally came up and he was able to wash his face and take his medicine. A bit light headed, he held on tightly to the sink in front of him hardly recognizing his own reflection. He did look bad, pale and still pretty bruised from his encounter with Mandy's new dream guy. No wonder everyone kept staring.

Greg shook it off and splashed some water on his face. Looking down at his hands he was startled to see blood. His blood. Shock gave way to resignation, as he confirmed in the mirror that he was indeed bleeding from his nose. Resignation became panic when he begun to realize that it just wasn't a little nose bleed, he was really putting out a lot of blood, starting to make a mess even. Groping blindly for a towel behind him, he held back his head, and meant to sit on the toilet. He just missed, slipping to the floor and banging his head against the tub beside him.

For a second it dawned on him that this is what people meant when they said they were seeing stars, but after that it was just dark.

An hour had passed before he awoke again. An hour that seemed like a minute. Greg was disoriented to say the least.

"Mom?" he asked weakly, looking around the room. He was in a hospital, had to be. He remembered the smell.

"She just stepped out," a voice said from just behind him.

He tried to turn and see who the voice was coming from; it wasn't familiar. Soon the owner of the voice appeared herself.

"She's talking with Dr. Tracey in the hall," the nurse said brightly. "I'll let them know you're awake."

Greg watched her go while wondering if this was all a bad dream. How'd he get in the hospital? He didn't have to wait long for the answer. Dr. Tracey came in soon after the nurse had left with his chart in hand.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as if she'd just stopped by to chat.

"Okay, I guess."

Something in her look forcibly reminded him of Grissom. She was like a human lie detector.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"No, not really. I think we were going out."

"You didn't make it," she said sitting down beside him.

She paused for a long time, reading his expression and taking in his features.

"Greg, I was very serious when I stressed that you needed to stay rested. I understand that you've been very strict about taking your medication, which is good, but it's not good enough. Talking with your mother I hear you've had a few long nights."

"It's not like I have a strenuous job," he tried arguing.

"It doesn't have to be strenuous to be stressful."

"Last night was the longest I'd been at work since finding out. Honest."

She nodded, but didn't seem to believe it.

"You're very sick Greg. I'm not lying when I say that. You don't want to hear it, I know. You don't want to believe that you can't do everything you could before, but you can't. You obviously haven't been sleeping or eating well. That is a huge contributor to this episode."

"The medicine is making it hard to sleep or keep much down."

Dr. Tracey jotting this down on his chart.

"Did you look into the support group I suggested?"

"No."

"I think you should. You might sleep easier if you didn't feel like you were the only one dealing with these same issues."

Greg blinked back a few tears that had threatened his eyes and turned towards the window.

"Your mother suggested that she take you back to San Francisco with her. That you begin treatment at Stanford medical again where she could look after you easier."

"And?"

"And I told her I thought it was a mistake. You obviously have roots here and taking you from that now might spiral you into a depression. I also told her I thought you should continue working, but only if you agree to stick to the restrictions."

"I'm sure she took that well."

"She just wants what's best for you."

"I know," Greg said quickly.

"I'm readjusting your medication. That should help with the queasiness. Sometimes it takes a week or two to get them just right. You're being released in an hour. No work tonight. And if you get this sick again call me."

"I will."

"You'd better," she said, smiling for the first time since he'd known her.