Hmm, unfortunately I acquired four lovely welts on the back of my hand from work today, typing's been…interesting I suppose you could say. Who ever knew mopping could be so dangerous? Anyhow, seeing that a bandaged finger doesn't help with typing at all, there may be a few typos. I've caught what I was able to, but there are those persistent ones that like to hide, so forgive me just this once, kay:P


Chapter Three: Issues

The week was finally over, and Greg found himself back at work without missing a beat. The lab was busier than when he had left, but still not busy enough for his liking. He soon found himself sitting at an empty table again, waiting for results to finish processing.

He had seen his doctor three times in the last four days now. His test results had come back somewhat promising. Even though it was indeed positive, it wasn't progressing as quickly as they anticipated. That was somewhat of a good thing, Greg assumed.

But there was another matter that had been brought up during that time. He needed money, more money than he had. Even worse, insurance didn't cover him. Mostly because he no longer had any. It had been a shock when they told him this, he was never notified that his medical coverage was dropping him.

Then, after thinking about it, he probably did receive something in the mail, and it more in likely ended up in the trash with the rest of his junk mail. Greg shifted in his chair, leaning over to check the process on the samples he was running. At this point, he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

Ask for help, his doctor had told him. Greg ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he sat back down. Ask who for help? He wasn't about to tell anyone at work about what was going on, he wasn't ready. How exactly did you explain to someone that you were dying? He let out a nervous sigh, checking on the samples again. When were they going to be done?

He clasped his hands together, leaning back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling. He didn't have to tell them what he needed the money for. All he had to do was ask for a loan, pay them back when he could, or even if he could. But who in their right mind would lend someone thousands of dollars without a sensible reason?

Greg shook his head. No, it just wouldn't work, he would have to find another way to get the money he needed. Glancing up as the door opened, he gave a small smile as Sara came in. Making sure they were alone, she sat down across from them.

"Greg, when you filled those forms, what gender did you put down?" she asked, her voice only a whisper.

"Don't tell me I did," he said, his face tensing at her reaction.

"Yeah, you did." Her irritation was evident.

Greg shook his head, tapping the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think…what did they say?"

Sara straightened up, "They wanted to know why I put 'male' down. I told them that I had misread the question. Ecklie accepted it, but now everyone thinks I'm a cross dresser, or something along those lines. I've been getting nothing but crap all night long."

"Sara," Greg let out a sigh, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Well, that's obvious. I asked you to do one thing for me, that's all, one thing."

"Look," Greg told her, becoming irritated now, "I said I was sorry. If you can't accept the fact that I'm human, and I made a mistake, then don't ask for my help again."

Sara nodded shortly, "Then I won't."

"Good," Greg answered back in a even tone. The printer beeped as the results came out. Greg was thankful for the distraction as he reached over for the paper. "It's a match," he told her calmly, handing her the readouts. She snatched it from his hands, not even muttering a simple thanks as she left the room.

Left alone with his thoughts again, he tried to recall everything his doctor had told him within the last few meetings. Drink plenty of fluids, eat as often as you can, try and sleep every night. All easier said than done. He was never hungry anymore, skipping over his breaks, and only nibbling when the entire shift ate together. To avoid questions he had simply told everyone that a visit to his doctor had shown poor malnutrition, and had encouraged him to eat a large meal before going into work. That excuse had also giving Grissom a reason to why he seemed so pale that one day.

Since then, Greg had made certain to wear the foundation daily, masking his ashen features. He never wore anything that didn't go past his waistline now. There was just too much of a risk of someone seeing, and questioning. Grissom had been close to doing so, too close. So Greg made a point of avoiding his boss when he could.

As far as sleep, it would only come after several days of constant worry, and stress. Then he would sleep heavily, but never really felt refreshed after waking. This habit had nearly cost him to be late tonight. He would have to remember to set his alarm an hour earlier, give himself extra time to get ready on days he did happen to fall asleep.

His pager went off, breaking into his trance. Shuffling for it, he barely caught the message. It was from Nick, wanting the lab tech to meet him in the other room when he could. Seeing there was nothing else to do, and having no excuse not to go, Greg got to his feet, holding the table as a woozy feeling passed over him. It was something that was happening more often now, Greg had gotten into the habit of securing himself before walking anywhere. Once the feeling was gone, Greg made his way down the hall to see what Nick had wanted him for.

TBC