Chapter Seven: I'll Try

Thirteen steps; it took him thirteen steps to walk the length of the seating area. Thirteen steps forward, a quick turn around, thirteen steps back. By shortening his stride he could get fifteen in, by lengthening it, ten steps. Nick let out a sigh, his hands clasped behind his back tightly as he walked back up, only to turn around to retrace his steps.

His eyes rested on the doors, scanned the stencil lettering. Intensive Care Unit. Biting his lip, Nick continued his pacing. He had been here for hours now, and no one had told him anything. After taking Greg into the ER, they quickly carted him into the ICU in a wheelchair. Nick had called Grissom shortly after, updating him on what had happened in a shaky and queasy voice. His boss' voice was grim, but not surprised. Nick hadn't time to worry about it then.

The only thing he could think of was the look Greg had given him. Nick couldn't describe it, there was so much in so little. He sat down, running his hands through his hair, closing his eyes. His fingers dug into his skull as the memory came back to him, quite vividly.

No one had answers, everyone that passed by only shook their head, telling him that he would know 'soon' and that he just had to wait. Nick felt sick, he hoped that this was only a freak accident. Maybe Greg had hit his head hard enough to cause all his other symptoms, maybe he was overreacting, perhaps he should have just taken Greg home, as the young lab tech had asked.

His mind knew different. Whatever was wrong, had been happening for a while. He cursed himself inwardly, why hadn't he seen before? He talked to Greg nearly every day, had worked with him on and off, even given him a ride or two when they got off shift the same time. And he didn't notice, he wasn't able to see, Greg was right in front of his eyes and Nick never really noticed.

Glancing up as the door opened, he watched expectantly as a doctor walked by. When she didn't stop, Nick stood up, reaching for her arm. She turned, watching him for a moment.

"Please, miss," Nick asked softly, "I've been here for hours now, I brought a Mr. Sanders in, I haven't heard anything since."

She gave a small smile. "You must be Mr. Stokes," she answered, sitting down, indicating that he should do the same. "Greg mentioned that you might still be here."

Nick raised an eyebrow. Might? He was worried out of his mind. "Yeah, how is he?"

"Sander's disease has moved into its final stages," she started, pulling out a file.

Nick cut her off, waving his hands, "Woah, wait, hold on," he sputtered. "What disease?"

She let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping. "He never told you then, I'm assuming? I kind of thought he was that type of person."

Nick shook his head, he was beginning to feel sick. "I'm completely lost here, please, I found him in the bathroom, he hit his head, I brought him in. That's all I know."

She nodded, "I'm Greg Sander's Doctor, Dr. Mannon," she shook hands with him. "Greg has been suffering from long term liver failure. Actually, liver failure is the final stages of complete shutdown of the liver, he hasn't gotten there quite yet, but he's severely close. He should have been in the hospital days ago."

Nick could only stare at her, his throat dry, as he was at a loss for words. "He's known about this?" He finally managed to spit out.

Dr. Mannon nodded, "For sometime."

"What, what can be done?"

"He needs a transplant," she explained.

"I'll donate," Nick interrupted, "all he needs is a partial right?"

"It's not that easy," she told him quietly. "Greg needs a full transplant, there's nothing we can do to save what's left of his liver."

"Okay," Nick let out a long breath, "You just need to find a donor, I mean, liver transplants are fairly successful, from what I've seen. How soon does he need one?"

Dr. Mannon bit her lip, "A day, maybe two."

Nick was shocked, unwilling to believe that things had gotten so bad without anyone's knowledge. This was some sort of bad dream, he was going to wake up any second now, and find himself at home. He would go into work, and see the young lab tech, busy at work.

"We can," Dr. Mannon started, breaking his thoughts. "We can give him up to a week if we get him on treatment."

"Then get him on treatment," Nick started.

"Mr. Sanders has refused treatment," she told him dryly. "He's preparing himself to leave as we speak. I was hoping to find you, if you can convince him to stay, and receive treatment, we can give him more time. That's all that counts in his condition, is time. The more time he has, the more chance he'll have of receiving a suitable organ. We can get him on mycophenalate motifil, or Cellcept, as it is more commonly know. It's used more often in kidney failure, but it will give the same effect. It will slow down the antibodies that are attacking his liver by diminishing them."

Nick nodded, even though he was dumbfounded as to the reason why Greg would refuse treatment. "I…I'll do what I can," he told her softly.

She nodded, "Third door on the right, and good luck."

She was right, Greg was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a pair of slacks, and was reaching for his shirt. The young lab tech glanced up as Nick made his way in, before turning away from the Texan's astonished look. He had never seen anyone so thin, and still alive at the same time.

Greg pulled the shirt over his head, the fabric effectively covering his skeletal frame. Nick didn't say anything at first, only watched as Greg reached for his shoes, pulling them on.

"Why?" Nick asked.

Greg didn't meet his gaze, only concentrated on tying his shoe. "Shit happens," Greg snapped, though his voice was quiet and labored.

"Why didn't you say anything," Nick pressed, not taken aback by the other man's mood.

"Because," Greg said flatly, "I didn't feel like it."

"Greg, I'm only trying to help," Nick mumbled softly.

"You want to help?" Greg asked, looking up at him. "Then call me a taxi."

"You can't be serious," Nick told him, "Greg, you need to stay here."

"What for?"

Nick shook his head, watching the youth reach for the other shoe. "Because, you need help. Greg, you're dying."

"I'm going to die anyways Nick," Greg pointed out, resting his hands on his knees.

"They can help you," he pointed out, but Greg was already shaking his head.

"No, they can't. Face the facts, I already have. I'm just not strong enough." Greg pushed himself up, stumbling as the room swayed. Nick moved over to his side quickly, supporting him. Greg pushed him away weakly, but to no avail as Nick sat him back down on the bed.

Now in front of him, Nick held the young man's hands gently, still shocked by how cold they were. He squeezed them gently, looking up into his eyes. Greg avoided his gaze, trying to control his short breaths.

"Greg," Nick started slowly. He had wanted Greg to look at him, but no luck. "I don't know how this could have all happened, how you were able to fight this for so long, but you couldn't have done it if you weren't strong."

Greg let out a sigh, "I'm in no mood for a pep talk," he argued, but Nick wasn't swayed.

"I know how you feel," Nick started, but Greg cut him off, pulling free of his hold.

"Have you ever been sick?" he asked, "Have you ever found yourself waking up, and wondering, will today be the day? Will this be the last time I see the sun set, the last you see you friends, the last time you wave to the little old lady as you pick up your mail? To know that you are dying, and know that there is no hope for you? Do you know what it's like, to get up every day, go to work, and to see life go on as if nothing is wrong and yet know that one day you will no longer be a part of it? Do you?"

Nick shook his head slowly, swallowing.

"No, because the fact that you may not wake up tomorrow doesn't cross your mind. I mean, it could happen to any one of us, in some freak accident, or from a disease that has no answers. We can't explain, even us, I mean, you see death all the time. Don't you ever think, what if that was me?"

"No," Nick admitted. "I never have."

Greg nodded dully, drawing in a shaky breath as he wiped his eyes. "I have, every day now, for quite a while. I've tried to come up with ways to tell everyone, make the arrangements for afterwards. Tried to figure out who to leave what, but I didn't. I can't, I'm too scared. I'm not ready to die, but I know it's not my choice. I know I've let you all down, I'm sorry."

Nick's gaze dropped to the floor, then back up to Greg. "No one will blame you Greg," Nick told him gently. "I don't, you're dealing with too big of burden here, and you're trying to carry it yourself. You shouldn't have to."

"I don't have any choice," Greg pointed out.

"Yes, you do," Nick told him, standing. He took the young man by the shoulders. "You can take the treatment, you can choose to fight back, to hold out as long as you can."

Greg shook his head, "I can't," he stuttered.

"Are you telling me that you're giving up? That you're quitting? Greg Sanders, the indomitable, comical and annoying lab rat I know is just going to give up? I've never seen you quit on anything Greg, why do you think I give you all those seemingly impossible tasks?"

Greg glanced up at him shocked, "Because you don't want to do it maybe?"

Nick shook his head, "Because I know that you can get it done. You so strong-headed, once you have your mind set, you won't stop until you see it through."

Greg let out a sigh, shaking his head as Nick continued. "If you die, if you die," he stressed the if strongly. "Then let it be because it's finally time, not because you gave up. All you need is time, I'm not saying that you'll win, but it could happen. You're a scientist, you know that there is still a chance, no matter how small. If you give in now, then there is no longer a chance."

Greg was quiet for a long moment, Nick was desperately trying to think of something else to say, to persuade him. "Okay," Greg finally muttered, "I'll try."

Nick let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "That's all I'm asking," he told the lab tech, letting go as the youth lay back down. Nick sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him. "That's all I'm asking." He muttered again, pressing the call button gently.

"Just try."

TBC