Precious Things by SLynn
Spoilers: Up to 'Nesting Dolls'
Rating: R for violence and disturbing content
Disclaimer: Not mine – well, some are mine, just not the ones you recognize.
You know I can't
sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going
insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
For a little
peace of mind
I'd give you everything I've got
For a little
peace of mind
'I'm So Tired' by the Beatles
Chapter 7: Peaceof Mind
Greg knew that he'd had longer days then this but couldn't think of a single one.
It was three in the morning now and he was cold. Despite summers approach a cold front had caught everyone unprepared. He couldn't believe he was there, standing on the side of the road trying to feign interest as Grissom recounted the four hundred ways why the blood spray in the car found should be fascinating. For the first time Greg just didn't care. Didn't care if the whole damn car was covered with blood from the inside out. Didn't care if aliens had abducted the occupants and planted cow's blood to throw them off. Didn't care if this was some elaborate fraternity prank gone horribly wrong.
Didn't. Didn't. Didn't.
He just wanted to process the scene and go.
That was probably why Grissom just kept talking.
As he did his mind wandered. There was too much to think about. Greg and Sara hadn't talked yet. He'd given her an open invite but was thankful she hadn't accepted it yet. Nick had almost talked his ear off. He'd gotten out of his place on the pretense of getting sleep but it wasn't like that was about to happen. And now Grissom was no longer acting like his mother but wanted to apparently be his best friend. He must really look like shit. It was a good thing he hadn't been partnered up with Catherine tonight, she'd of likely driven him to the hospital.
"Greg?"
Grissom's voice, his questioning one, snapped him back to reality.
"Sir?"
Grissom stood up and walked over to him. Greg was supposed to be taking notes, doing something he was positive. He just couldn't remember what.
"Are you alright?"
'No I'm not,' he wanted to scream but didn't. 'I'm sleep deprived, freezing my ass off and everyone I know wants to put me on heavy medication.'
"Just cold," was what he said instead.
Grissom stared at him obviously not buying it. Greg knew he was a horrible liar, had always been, but he'd hoped with all the practice he'd had that he'd improved.
"How long have you been awake?" Grissom asked now, shining the light up to his face.
"Today?" Greg asked in turn, hoping Griss might just believe it was a one time thing. "I don't know, since around one or two."
"Did you see Dr. Tracey?"
Greg just managed to check the groan but couldn't stop his eyes from rolling.
"Yes."
Grissom seemed to be waiting for something but Greg didn't feel like complying. He knew he was being borderline disrespectful, but couldn't help it. If Grissom wanted to know how it went, what was said, anything, he was going to have to ask. Even then Greg wasn't sure he'd tell him.
Sensing Greg's resolve Grissom said no more. Just got back to work and forced him to do the same.
They were back at the lab in under an hour.
Greg didn't even try to get anything else done. Nick hadn't come in that night, Sara and Catherine were working some triple homicide in Henderson and Warrick had the night off. He could barely function. Just made his way to the break room and laid down on the couch. He hadn't been there long, stretched out with an arm draped across his eyes to block the light, when he'd heard a familiar snort as someone else entered the room.
"What Hodges?"
"Nothing," he said and Greg didn't have to look, he could picture the smug smile on his face, "It's just typical. You're in here sleeping while the rest of us are hard at work."
"Yep, that's right," Greg said dryly, "I come here every night, lay down for eight hours and they pay me. Just like your mom."
"Aren't we testy," Hodges said evenly. It took a lot more then petty insults to get under his skin, something Sanders had never learned. "What? Did Sidle finally wise up and kick you out? You know, I use to have a high opinion of her taste until I heard about the two of you. What, did you sucker her in with a sob story and…"
Hodges trailed off as he turned round and got a better look at Greg on the couch. He'd never liked Sanders. He thought he was loud, unprofessional, completely overrated and arrogant. But still, you can not like someone and still worry when you see such a dramatic change. Sanders, who had just been trading barbs with him as always, was now completely silent.
"Sanders?" Hodges called, putting down his coffee and stepping closer.
He got no response so he took a few more steps till he was nearly hovering.
"Greg," he said loudly and finally got a reaction.
Greg moved his arm from his eyes and jumped a bit to see Hodges so close to him. Worse was the look on his face. Now Greg was worried. How bad was it if Hodges actually looked concerned?
Greg sat up and Hodges walked back over to where he'd left his cup. He only advised him to 'lay off the coffee' before he walked out again, saying nothing more.
Not two minutes later Amy walked in and Greg briefly wondered if Hodges had anything to do with it.
"How's it going?" she asked sitting down next to him.
"How does it look like its going?" he returned.
"Badly," she said point blank.
Greg just yawned and put his head on her shoulder.
"I've got a break coming up," she continued, "how about I drive you home."
He couldn't fight it anymore. Just couldn't. Nightmares or not, he had to sleep. Greg just nodded and Amy told him to wait there and she'd get their things. He wondered if maybe she could pull her car right up to the couch because he wasn't sure he was going to get far on his own.
She took awhile getting back and he had a suspicion that she'd not only stopped and told Grissom but called Sara as well. Greg barely remembered the drive, let alone the walk to the car, but they were there in seemingly no time.
Noting that the sky was beginning to lighten Greg could only guess that it was nearing six. He saw the curtains from the house across the street flutter open then shut and wondered how long it would take Betty to make it over and how many questions she'd have about the woman who was obviously not Sara helping him into the house. Right now he didn't care. Just stumbled, albeit with Amy's help, back to the bedroom and fell to the bed.
Amy helped him with his jacket and his shoes, kissed him quick on the forehead, and then left him to the relative darkness of his room.
Greg was out cold the moment his head hit the pillow.
The next time he opened his eyes it was still dark out.
Struggling to lift his head off the pillow, Greg looked at the clock in disbelief. It said it was ten after seven, but then why was it so dark? It was only after really concentrating did Greg realize that it must be p.m. not a.m. He'd slept over twelve hours.
Before he could get out of bed the door creaked open and Sara was momentarily silhouetted in the frame.
"You're up," she said. He couldn't see her smile in the dark but he could still hear it in her voice.
She walked over and sat down next to him. He scooted over to make room. Apparently he'd slept sprawled out across the whole bed.
"Yeah, but it's late. Why didn't you wake me sooner?"
Sara shook her head at him in disbelief.
"I'm going to pretend that was a joke," she said flatly.
Greg smiled at her, pulled her closer. He felt better, rested at least. Some. Honestly, he could sleep longer but was afraid of tempting fate. Twelve completely dreamless hours was more then he'd thought possible.
"Your mother called," Sara said, resting her head on his shoulder, "so did Dr. Tracey."
"What did my mom say? Did she ask about the wedding?"
"Of course," Sara said with a laugh, "She wanted to know if we'd set a date."
"And what did you say."
"That we're considering December."
"Are we?"
"Unless you want to do it sooner," Sara commented wrapping her arms around him now. He did the same.
"What does that give us, eight months? Is that enough time to plan a wedding?"
"You're asking the wrong girl," Sara laughed, "But, I guess it will depend on what we want."
"What do we want?" Greg asked seriously.
"Nothing big," Sara said after a minute's consideration.
"Well that ruins my mother's plans."
She laughed. Sara knew very well what Maggie Sanders had in mind. While having never come out and addressed Sara directly about the matter, she had no problems telling her son.
"Do you want a big church wedding?" Sara asked.
"No, not really, but it doesn't matter where to me. Although I do want to do it here."
Another point of contention with his parents, they wanted them to marry in San Francisco.
"Okay," Sara agreed, "but I don't want to do it at a casino."
"Fair enough," Greg said, "but where else is there other then a church or a casino in Vegas to get married?"
"City hall."
"No," Greg said shaking his head, "I may not want elaborate but we are going to have a wedding of some kind."
"Okay, well then I don't know. We'll think of something."
Greg smiled at her again, the both of them still sitting in the dark. Her head still on his shoulder, his head now resting on hers.
"What did Dr. Tracey say?" he asked.
"That she wanted you to start taking vitamins."
"What?" he asked not sure he heard correctly.
"I picked them up while you were sleeping. She said something about you being anemic and needing more iron."
"Anemic?" Greg asked his voice sounding concerned.
Sara moved to look him in the eyes.
"What?" she asked, her voice as concerned as his had been.
"She really said anemic?"
Sara continued to stare at his last question. Greg moved away from her, standing up suddenly. Sara watched him pace the floor a few times, unsure what was bothering him.
"She said you looked run down, that you probably weren't eating right. I couldn't argue that."
"God it's really happening again," he mumbled, still pacing and now rubbing his hands over his face.
"What is? Greg, you're starting to really…"
"This is just…"
Greg stopped short, his breathing felt labored. He was panicking. Sara was up on her feet and trying to stop him. It hadn't been easy, but she got him sitting again. She thought she knew what he was thinking.
"Greg," Sara said taking his hands, "That's not it. Really, she'd have told me. It's not cancer. It's not back."
"But it was just like this last time," Greg retorted shaking his head, "I was worn out then, I had anemia, I was breathing funny. Look, I'm doing it now."
"That's psychosomatic."
Greg looked at her, wanting to believe it.
"Relax, please relax."
Greg tried, managed it just barely.
"God I'm freaking out," Greg said as he buried his head into his hands.
"It's okay," Sara reassured rubbing his back as she talked, "You're exhausted. One day's sleep isn't going to make up for the past month."
Greg gradually grew more comfortable and as he did so did Sara. She'd been mere seconds from taking him to the emergency room.
"This isn't healthy," she commented, "You can't keep doing this."
"I know," he agreed, "I do. I just don't know what else I can do. This isn't on purpose."
"Talk with Dr. Jennings. At least hear what she has to say."
"No. I know what she has to say. Medication. She wants me on medication. She told me so. Lied to me."
"Greg…"
"No, she said I wouldn't need the drugs after I got off of chemo and I don't. I don't."
"Just hear what she has to say. What Dr. Tracey has to say. Please. We'll work out something."
Greg lifted his head and looked her way. Letting out a sigh he put his head back down.
"When do they want to meet?"
