Yeah, I took a little writing break, I'm sorry. The muse didn't really strike me. And to those that I promised you would find out what would happen in the room, well you will, but not quite this chapter. This chap is full of hints and clues, and then the detailed explanation, as recollected by Nick, will be in the next chapter. Well, you've all been waiting so here's the next chapter of …
Painful Journeys
By Goody
"Woo hoo, yeah, Falcons rule!" Greg waved his foam finger around enthusiastically as his team scored what he called a 'too sweet touchdown'. It was a perfect day for a football game and he couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Man, did you see that Nick, it was amazing!"
He turned to his left expecting to see a crestfallen Nick – he was a Vikings fan after all – and was beyond surprised to find the seat beside him empty.
"Nick? Nick!" Greg looked all around him, down the aisles, up the stairs and at the vendors but did not see his friend anywhere in the stadium.
For a long moment he focussed solely on the empty seat beside him, sure Nick had been there moments ago. He had poked him with his foam finger for about the fiftieth time and had fought to keep the Texan from taking it from him. So where did he go? Greg wondered.
He looked up from the seat and the world became a vacuum. All sound disappeared and suddenly he was alone in the huge stadium becoming more nervous by the second. It didn't disturb him that all the people were gone, that somehow didn't seen significant, he only cared where Nick was.
Then the world began shifting around him. Colors blurred into one another, sky melded with ground and the earth tilted for just a moment. Slowly the scenery began to reconstruct itself into a facsimile of reality and Greg found himself in a well lit hallway, standing in front of a picture window with people bustling around him in lab coats, none paying any attention to him.
"Where …?" he asked aloud of no one. At first he thought he was in the lab, the hallway was a little different, but there were lab techs and machinery everywhere. The smell was wrong though. It wasn't just a chemical smell like he was used to at work, it was more … medical.
Gulping, he took a step towards the picture window that had appeared in front of him to see what lay beyond it. His stomach clenched and eyes widened at the sight.
"No … Nick?"
Nick lay still on the hospital bed, eyes closed, bruised and battered but breathing, no machines or equipment helping him. Greg noticed the cast on Nick's wrist and realized where he was. After Nigel Crane had attacked Nick the first time Greg had come to visit and this is how he had first seen him, through the window. Nick, the rock, the infallible, the friend, broken. The thought made him feel guilty because he knew that wasn't right; Nick was not broken, not completely at least. Despite how badly his body was hurt, Nick's strong personality and spirit would be intact. Greg instinctually knew Nick would be all right, he would not be bitter and feel like the world was against him, or angry that he had been put through this hell, he may be afraid but he would overcome that, he was just that kind of guy. It reminded Greg of something he couldn't believe he remembered from high school – "a man can be destroyed but not defeated." Nick was never one to accept defeat after all.
Greg smiled with the thought that Nick would be okay, but then he remembered their real day that had been far less than perfect. Memories quickly cascaded over him, frightening in their detail – Nick would not be okay because Nigel Crane was back. Crane had hurt them both, could still be hurting them and with this thought Greg's surroundings changed again. His breathing became harsh as he grew agitated, afraid. Nick began to fade from view, as did the hospital around him. Everything faded to black and he clenched his eyes shut and tried to calm his breathing but he was gasping now; he suddenly felt heavy and he knew he was somewhere else, somewhere he didn't want to be.
"Hello Gregory."
Nigel Crane.
"No, no, no," Greg didn't open his eyes, if he didn't look maybe it would go away. A new burning slice across his chest ruined his plan. He screamed and opened his eyes as Crane's knife slid further down his chest. Wide awake from fear and pain he saw where he was and felt his chest tighten even more.
His arms were still secured above his head, preventing escape, Nigel Crane stood directly in front of him grinning, holding up the cursed knife and lighter, the room was just as dark, just as dirty and terrifying as before but something was missing and unfortunately it wasn't the pain. He could see the radiator behind Crane, just where it had been all the time, but that was all that was there.
"Nick?" he asked softly, wondering what could have happened to him, what this psycho may have done to him. He was beyond surprised when he heard a calm Texas drawl answer from his left.
"I'm right here buddy."
Greg's head shot around, relieved then confused. Nick was here and he was all right, too all right. There were no bruises anywhere, no blood, he was even wearing a different set of clothes, clean and fresh.
"What?" Greg couldn't seem to form full sentences, he was shocked and overwhelmed. Nick only smiled, the wide, amused sympathetic smile Greg often saw on his face. It was wrong though, something was wrong.
"Look, we need to talk," Nick began, placing a comforting hand on Greg's shoulder. It was the eyes he realized, they were lifeless, soulless. "I've been doing a lot of thinking and you just aren't the kind of friend I need right now."
"W… what are you talking about?" Greg sputtered, breath hitching. Why was it so hard to breathe?
"It's just Nigel here has made some good points, really got me thinking. You really aren't worthy of my friendship, especially not now, if ever. I mean look at you, bleeding everywhere, defenceless and … are those tears in your eyes? Now come on, I can't be seen with someone like you," Nick scoffed at the idea and a look passed between him and Crane.
"I told you," Crane said, smiling.
"You did, you tried so hard to warn me, you're a good friend Nigel. Just wish I had listened. Now I have to cut you loose Greg."
"Nick, wait," Greg pleaded, eyes wide. Nick slapped him.
"Now come on, don't embarrass yourself any more than you have to by pleading and begging, some things just have to be done." Still smiling, Nick willingly and gladly took the knife Crane offered him.
Greg could not believe this was happening and what was wrong with his chest, he couldn't breathe at all.
"Clearly I have to move on, but I can't let you just keep following me around like a puppy, it's time to end all this."
Greg wanted to say something, talk to him, but there was no air in his lungs, felt like there hadn't been for a long time. He could only watch as Nick continued, unhesitant, Crane behind him, grinning madly, satisfied.
Nick shrugged almost apologetically, then stepped towards him, placed one hand on Greg's shoulder and touched the blade to his skin.
"Bye Greggo."
The knife slid into his stomach and …
"He's breathing!"
"Oh God," Catherine collapsed against the helicopter wall, sick with fear and exhausted with worry. She put a hand over her eyes and had to turn away as the medics kept working, hearing them clearly but unable to watch anymore. God, she had seen a lot in her days but nothing prepared her for this; watching them take that huge adrenaline needle and stab it directly into Greg's heart. It was an image that would stay with her for a lot of nights but she thanked God it had worked. The adrenaline had awoken Greg's systems; his heart was pounding again and he was breathing on his own.
After a few more deep breaths she willed herself to turn around and face the friend she was praying for. She wanted to believe he would be all right, but he didn't look like he ever would be again; his face was creased with pain and there was so much blood and so many injuries. How would he ever recover? He was already so still, not a natural state for Greg under any circumstances, and she couldn't take the thought of him staying that way forever. She wanted to take comfort in the medics, they were professionals, they knew the odds, but their words crushed her heart.
"Keep those paddles charged, we could lose him again any second."
"Breathing's not improving."
"He's dropping again."
And suddenly she couldn't take it anymore, not alone. The masks, the monitors, the needles, the IVs and paddles, she knew they were keeping Greg alive, but it seemed so brutal, so wrong. Turning to face the helicopter wall again she pulled out her cell phone and dialled, hoping desperately for an answer, a comforting word was all she needed.
"Brown."
"Warrick, it's Cath, how's Nick?" she asked, focussing on his voice and her own, anchoring herself to the moment and not the chaos happening behind her to keep Greg alive.
"They said he's going to be all right, he even woke up for a minute, asked about Greg. How's he doing?" Warrick asked, knowing she would not be calling without a reason but trying to sound calm about it.
Catherine turned around. The paramedics seemed to be moving in slow motion, she could barely see Greg's chest rising. Tears formed.
"He …"
Her hesitation made Warrick fear the worst, "Cath, what happened?" he demanded, no longer calm.
"Warrick he flatlined, he was dead. He was dead and I just stood there. They … they brought him back but he's getting worse. They don't know … Oh God, they're shocking him again."
Catherine could not hear Warrick talking to her through the phone anymore, she could only see Greg as the paddles came down on his bare chest, sending thousands of watts of electricity through him. His body lifted off the table, giving a devastating illusion of consciousness, but when he came down he was once again breathing on his own.
"… Cath? What's happening? Talk to me."
"I'm here," she whispered. "He's still alive, they got him back. Warrick, I don't know how long I can take this."
"Easy, take it easy. We'll all get through this, everything will be all right, okay?"
Catherine wanted to believe him but it was so hard, "When? Tell me when Warrick. When is it going to be all god damn right, cause I've been waiting a long time."
"I don't know, but we got to be strong and wait. So be strong for Greg, stay with him, keep him with us, I know you can do this Cath."
And she could. She had needed Warrick's calm, his unyielding faith in her, but she could be here now, and would stay there.
"Yeah, I can, I'll be all right. I have to let you go, we're almost at the hospital."
"Okay, I'll find you when I get there," he promised.
"Thanks, I'll see you soon." She closed the phone and retook her seat by Greg's head. The medics had slowed in their administrations and she could feel the ease of tension in the chopper.
"How is he doing?" she asked of anyone, never turning from Greg's face as she stroked back his hair, cautious of the bruise along his temple.
"A little better, he's stabilized for now, the doctors will be able to tell you more after surgery," a voice to her left replied; still she did not turn away. She was there for Greg; she already felt as though she had turned away from him once and she would not leave again.
Her composure was solid now and she forced a smile on her face, reassuring and comforting, she would be the pillar of support.
"You listen to me Greggo, you are not going to die. There's so much you still have to do kiddo. You're going to get your certification and then you're going to be a great CSI. You've earned it, you've worked so hard and we're all proud of you. So you're not going anywhere Greg, and we're all going to be here for you when you wake up, you hear me. So just hang on."
As she finished her final plea she reached down, careful of the IV, and squeezed his hand.
"Don't leave us, Greggo."
She gasped. He squeezed back.
Sara took a deep breath to steady herself as she followed Grissom and Brass into the 'little child's room of horrors', only half a step behind them. Her trained eye took in the scene and she subconsciously came to the most likely conclusion of how it came to be that way, with everything she pictured involving pain. She saw shards of glass, torn pictures, almost no furniture, Nigel Crane's dead body and blood, blood, blood.
Greg and Nick's, she thought pangingly.
No, she reprimanded herself, don't think like that, stay objective. It's just another crime scene. It's just another crime scene. It's just another crime scene.
She repeated the mantra to herself as she began processing and going on automatic as she began snapping pictures, finding it helped to detach her from the crime and the people she knew. At least, it helped until Brass began explaining the scene as they had found it.
"Crane hasn't been moved, far as I know no one touched him. Nick was here, handcuffed," Brass's voice became subtly softer, respectful, as he pointed to the radiator, "Greg was here," he continued, pointing out the rope above the puddle of blood, "also handcuffed."
Sara closed her eyes and swallowed, unable to keep the images that she didn't want to see from forming in her mind: Nick, usually cocky and supportive, trapped, shot, defenceless. Forced to bend to the will of the madman that was obsessed with him. Greg, always smiling, always energetic, restrained, bleeding, tortured by a man he did not know for reasons unknown. Dying. Nick would have been able to do nothing as Greg died in front of him only three feet away. So little distance, but so little choice; they had to watch each other suffer, it was no wonder they were both unconscious when they were found, it was so much better than the alternative of being awake.
The images hurt and tears tried to form in her eyes, but she fought them back and forced the images away. Forced herself to work.
Just another crime scene, just another crime scene, just another crime scene.
"My god," Grissom whispered softly, his face contorted in a rare visage of disgusted shock and empathy as he looked over the scene. This never happened to him, he was always so distant from the crime, so detached. He thought he could work this professionally but as he examined the pool of blood on the floor, knowing full well that it was Greg's, and he was possibly dying in a helicopter somewhere, he began to doubt that he could stay objective, let alone calm and focussed. Maybe this was a mistake.
Sara could read the doubt in his eyes and sighed, knowing it was time to stop pretending like it didn't affect them, like this was normal.
"Come on Gris," Sara said suddenly, breaking him out his deep thoughts as he stared at the room's contents. "If we're going to do this, let's do it right. Nick and Greg deserve that much."
She felt strong as she said it, hefting her camera up for her first few shots of the room. Grissom was noticeably surprised for a moment but followed suit, snapping on a pair of gloves and taking out the ALS.
"You mark the glass, I'm going to start on the stairs," Grissom said, following Sara's lead and slipping back into professional tones.
She nodded, already engrossed in her work.
Just another crime scene.
She took an overview shot of the room and then moved straight to the body of Nigel Crane. Technically they couldn't touch it until the coroner arrived to pronounce the death but they could still photograph. She lifted the camera up and focussed but lowered it before snapping a shot. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw set as she looked at him. He was dead and she still hated him. He had hurt their team once before when he attacked Nick and that had been bad enough, but this was so much worse. Crane had inflicted pain purposely, with calculated movements and now Nick was hurt again, probably mentally more than physically, and Greg could die. Not surprisingly she could not feel sorry Crane was dead, she only wished it had happened sooner.
She snapped her pictures, focussing on Crane's dead, open eyes, slit throat, and the knife he tightly clutched.
When she finished her pictures a grimace adorned her features, despising Crane for causing so much pain.
Grissom was across the room and never heard as she whispered her thoughts about this man and what he had done to their team:
"Bastard."
Not just another crime scene.
"Nick, can you hear me?"
Yes, Nick wanted to answer. He could hear Warrick clearly, but he found he couldn't talk, could barely keep his eyes open actually. He didn't even know where he was to be honest, the exhaustion and pain medication were doing a number on him, but he could hear Warrick and wanted to answer.
Thankfully, Warrick judged from his eyes that he was at least semi-coherent and continued, "Nick, they're taking you into surgery now, you're going to be fine but they gotta get that bullet outta your arm. I'll be right here waiting when you get out, okay?"
Nick tried to open his mouth but talking would take so much energy, he settled on nodding and attempting a weak smile which Warrick returned.
"I'll be right here," Warrick promised once more, getting father away.
That was the last Nick saw of his friend as his stretcher was pushed through the ER doors and Warrick was told he could go no further. Nick wanted to ask where they were going but he was so tired he didn't care, so he contented himself to watch the lights pass overhead, oblivious to the IVs being inserted, or the monitors being attached. He only knew exhaustion as his eyes drifted shut into what would not be pleasant dreams.
Warrick sighed as he rubbed a hand over his eyes, having done all he could for the time being. After taking one final long look at the ER doors he left the waiting area and headed for the front desk, having one more friend to check in on.
"Hey, I'm looking for Gregory Sanders, patient, came in about twenty minutes ago," Warrick said as he leaned against the counter, noting the nurse on duty was cute but in no state of mind to even consider flirting. She checked the chart.
"Oh, the fly in, we don't get many of those. He's on third being prepped for surgery," she replied.
"Thanks," Warrick jogged to the elevator. He knew it was too early to hear from a doctor on Greg's condition but he did not want to leave Catherine waiting by herself any longer than necessary. After visiting a second information desk he was led into a doored off waiting room where he found Catherine staring distantly through a picture window.
"Cath?" he said softly.
She turned around quickly, eyes red but she had long stopped crying, hair somehow still perfect as always, but she looked haggard. Screw a double shift, she looked like she had done a quadruple; Warrick realized he probably didn't look much better.
"Hey," she replied softly, meant as greeting and as a way of saying 'thanks for being here'. She smiled and moved towards him; they hugged. It was a long embrace, strictly of comfort and support which they both needed. The tension seemed to seep out of Catherine as he held her tightly, and he gladly took the strain from her.
When he released her Warrick looked up through the window for the first time and found it looked in on a hospital room. Most surprising was the occupant of the room; Greg lay motionless in the white hospital bed. Almost every piece of visible skin was bandaged. The non-bandaged parts were deeply bruised or very pale, there were two IVs in his arms, one clear, the other blood and machines beeped all around him. He looked horrible, tortured, but he was alive.
"I thought they were taking him in for surgery," Warrick said, surprised. Greg's heart had stopped twice on the trip to the hospital, he assumed they would rush him right to the Operating Room upon arrival.
Catherine shook her head as she left the strong arms and composed herself once more after her brief moment of release.
"He's lost too much blood, they have to get a few pints in him before they take him in," she explained, having already questioned the doctors.
"Refuelling him. Do they know if he's going to be all right?" Warrick asked, leaving one arm around Catherine's shoulder after they broke apart from their embrace.
"Not yet. They won't know for sure until after surgery, but he's fighting, holding on," she said, not mentioning when he had squeezed her hand but remembering it and drawing strength from that, taking it as a sign that Greg would not give up. "It almost doesn't seem real you know, like this is too impossible to be true."
"Yeah, I know, it's hard to believe. It's not everyday you got a madman kidnapping your friends in broad daylight. Unfortunately we got our proof sitting right in front of us," Warrick said, indicating Greg, who looked so small and weak, though they prayed for him to be strong.
There was silence for a moment before Catherine asked, "How's Nick?"
"They said he'll be fine, they're removing the bullet. They don't think it hit anything vital so his arm should be one hundred percent again once it heals up," Warrick replied, sticking to the facts. But Catherine didn't want facts, she wanted observations, thoughts, opinions.
"What about mentally?"
"Good I guess, all things considered. He wasn't awake long, just asked about Greg, was relieved he was alive and pretty okay with Crane being dead. He'll be all right, they both will, they're tough."
Warrick said this strongly but in the back of his mind he wondered and did not mention Nick's ominous last words, not certain exactly how coherent the Texan had been at the time of his murder confession. If it was true, well, that was definitely a few more mental barriers that Nick would have to go through, but that could wait to be dealt with. Right now the physical well being of their friends was the most important, all other issues could be solved as long as Nick and Greg were alive.
Catherine's mind began to wander to the rest of their team, "I wonder how Grissom and Sara are doing."
"Should we call them?"
"Why, to tell them everything we don't know?" Catherine retorted harshly. She shut her eyes and swallowed, immediately regretful. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."
"Don't worry about it, you're right. And I can't exactly say I'm eager to find out what they found either," Warrick replied. Looking at Nick and Greg, it was clear they went through Hell, he didn't need the experience laid out for him in detail.
"It seems wrong, but I kind of wonder what they found."
"Hey Grissom, Sara. I got here as soon as I could."
Grissom looked up from his inspection of the blood spatter on the baseball bat he had found on the stairs, "Hey David. There's no rush, the body's over there."
Sara was processing around Crane, marking glass and snapping pictures. David nodded and crossed the room to join her.
She smiled as best she could for him, "Hey David."
"Hi. Um, is there any word on Nick and Greg yet?" David asked haltingly. They were not team members or friends by any means, but David still knew both of the CSIs fairly well and wanted to know if they were okay, something the police had been unwilling to divulge to him.
Sara stopped taking pictures and stared at the floor for a moment before answering.
"Nick should be fine, it's just some kind of shoulder injury. Greg, we're not sure what even happened to, but the medics said it was fifty/fifty when they found him." Her voice was monotone, automatic, as if she wasn't letting her mind consider what the words she was saying actually meant. Instead she continued snapping pictures and marking glass.
"Oh, all right. Let's take a look at this body then," David said, lifting his kit and moving to crouch next to the body.
"Nigel Crane, I'm sure you've heard of him. Looks like suicide," Sara said pretty much unnecessarily as she knelt on Crane's other side. Now that David was here to pronounce the death they could process the body, which she was eager to do.
"So this is the guy that's responsible for … all this?" David asked, almost in awe that this small man could be responsible for all the chaos that had happened that day. The police station and crime lab had been in a frenzy all day over this case; apparently a lot of cops had lined up for the chance to be part of the rescue team. Despite the dire circumstances, it was nice to see that the police considered the CSIs part of their group and were eager to protect them like their own people.
"Yeah, he's our kidnapper, we got him on tape. But technically, right now he's our victim."
"Well, first impression, I'd have to guess COD was blood loss from the massive slash in his jugular. Liver temp suggests he's been dead a little over two hours."
As David wrote on his chart Sara photographed and then removed the bloody knife from Crane's right hand to inspect it.
"Ten to one on this being our murder weapon," she commented, about to bag it.
David looked up from his inspection, eyebrow furrowed, "I'll take that bet."
"What do you mean?" Sara asked, surprised.
"Well, off hand it doesn't look like this wound was caused by that knife or any other. Suicides like this are almost always one long slice across the throat," David explained as he examined the wound. "This has no slash pattern at all, it looks like it was one hard stab into the neck, almost unheard of. And it doesn't look like it was caused by that knife, probably something wider and thinner."
Sara stood up, confused. A bloody knife in the vic's hand, but it wasn't what killed him. She scoured the floor, noting how the bright yellow markers she had placed were impossible to miss.
"So, wasn't killed by the knife," she knelt down and shone her light on the shards of mirror. "Piece of glass then, maybe."
David nodded, "Yeah, that would work."
"Grissom, you get that?" Sara called out as she started looking over each piece of glass, noting any with traces of blood.
Grissom was still on the far side of the room, inspecting the bat and doorframe, "Yeah, I heard."
"I haven't seen any shards that looked big enough to cause that kind of wound, or bloody enough for that matter," Sara reported as she continued looking over the floor.
David looked up and pointed to a spot near the radiator, "What's that over there?"
Sara turned and dismissed the idea, "Used to be Greg's cell phone, there's not much left of it. Nothing sharp or big enough to do that kind of damage anyway."
She looked for a few more minutes while David finished up and then announced quite certainly, "I've marked all this glass, if that's what killed him it's not here."
Grissom turned to her and his eyebrows went up, a clear sign he was thinking, "At least, it's not somewhere we can see it. It could be under the body."
Sara looked at David who appeared as though he wanted to finish writing in his chart but sighed when he saw the look she gave him. He put the chart away to finish filling in later and motioned for two medics to help him move the body. Sara watched as Nigel Crane was hefted onto a stretcher and moved out of the room, not offering him a second glance, then knelt down to inspect the floor beneath; no glass.
"Nothing, we have no murder weapon," Sara announced, having no idea where else to look.
"It'll show up," Grissom said quite certainly as he marked another evidence bag and gave it to David to bring back to the lab for them. "It always does eventually."
He tried to sound reassuring but Sara was not pleased, "Well, I don't feel like waiting. I want to wrap this case up as quickly as possible."
Grissom nodded; he could understand that so said nothing as she began inspecting every inch of the floor once more. As she worked he finished tracing the blood spatter on the wall. It was a few minutes before he was done and he was about to move outside to inspect Crane's car when he heard Sara cry out behind him.
"I got it," she announced, very relieved since with a murder weapon they were now much closer to wrapping up this case and putting it behind them. Placing her flashlight on the floor, she laid on her stomach and carefully pulled the long shard of glass out from underneath the radiator. She held it up for her own inspection and Grissom's, who was quickly crossing the room.
Shining the light on the mirror piece it was impossible to not see the coat of blood on the end of the long shard. But while Sara looked triumphant Grissom appeared slightly confused. Looking from the radiator to the spot on the floor that was Crane's final resting place, he had one question.
"Okay, we found it, but how did it get all the way over here?" he asked. Sara looked up and also noticed the unlikely distance between Crane's body and the murder weapon.
"Crane might have thrown it or kicked it under, who knows what happened here or what was going on in his head?" Sara hypothesized.
"Only two people that we know of, and they aren't talking just yet," Grissom commented as he took a step back to better envision the events as they happened.
Sara thought it was a cold thing to say, it was Nick and Greg they were talking about after all, but then she remembered they were supposed to be detached from the case and the victims, something Grissom seemed to be doing a lot better than her.
"Well unless you think there was someone else here, then Crane must have been the one to knock it under the radiator. I mean, Greg and Nick were both handcuffed …"
"Right here," Grissom interrupted.
"What?"
Grissom didn't hesitate to meet her eye, "Where you found that shard, underneath the radiator, it's almost exactly where Nick was handcuffed."
Sara opened her mouth to reply and couldn't. She looked from the radiator to where Crane had been and knew that it made sense, more sense than suicide, but they still couldn't be sure. There were simply too many variables to be sure of anything. Right now the evidence they needed was eyewitness testimony and she knew where to find it. Shaking her head and bagging the evidence she stood up with an air of finality.
"I'm going to the hospital," she announced, already striding out of the room.
"Yeah," Grissom was just as sick of this crime scene. "I'm right behind you."
TBC
I know, not the most exciting chapter I've done, and the answers you're all looking for will be revealed next chapter (I know I said that a chapter ago, but this time I'm sure since that chapter is already half written). Please tune in next time for flashback angst and recovery h/c. I suppose it's mostly c, but there's some h in there too. As for my fabulous reviewers who would not stop pestering me:
Marakida – Well, Greg can die actually. It probably won't happen here, but it does happen. Thanks for the review.
Lancey – Thank you soooooo much for reviewing and reading once again even though you have no idea what is happening. I feel sooooooo bad about not writing more on Fields of Battle, and trust me you have not been the only one asking, I can only promise it will not be left unfinished. Until then thanks for reading.
Shacky20 – I haven't written it yet, but I already can see the scene in my head on Nick reacting when he spends time with a recovering Greg. They will be well worth the wait trust me, and thanks for reviewing.
Storyspindler – Thanks so much for trying to inspire me, and I didn't mind at all that you corrected my medical stuff, I really have no idea what I'm talking about. As it is there is a little bit of medical stuff in this chap as well and I would have written you to ask but the end part of your email address didn't pop up. Go back and look at your review, you'll see what I mean. I think ff. net takes it out. Thanks for the offer though, I may write you for later chapters.
Airen – sorry the wait was so long, I love the Greg puppy eyes though.
Apion – not a chance of this not being finished, I promise on my muse and my reviews, it will get done.
Mellaithwen – Glad you're liking the angst and tension, it's fun to write, though I wonder sometimes if I go overboard with it. Yeah, not seeing season 5 yet has to suck, he was barely in the last episode, I was so mad, but the episode before that, where he got his certification was like all about him, so it's okay. Yeah, the body was in like a really big Tupperware storage bin thing, it was just a kid so the body was small.
Shacky20 – Did you review 3 times? My god, you must really like this story, thank you so much for all that effort. Yes, there will be a lot of Greg and Nick interactions down the road, I have a very touching and slightly humorous scene written on a piece of scrap paper that I can't wait to put in. Nick will also have SERIOUS angst, so that should be fun. Stick around.
Kenzimone – lolololol, that was pretty funny. You're right, Crane should have been happy with Nick and Greg at his fingertips, I mean, it's all I want in life, but Nick wouldn't allow that. Good guess, but it's nothing supernatural on Nick's part, though elastigirl was entertaining. You'll have to wait and see like everyone else.
And to the many, many people that exclaimed "Greg's Dead, OMG Nick killed Crane" (I've never had so many similar reviews in my life, it was cool). Greg is not dead, we'll clear that up though it's clear from the fic and yes, Nick did kill Crane and I would LOVE to hear how you all think he did it. I'm curious to know what people come up, hell, if someone has a better idea than mine is I might steal it. j/k, but thank you all for reading, reviewing and caring about updates. They should come more quickly now. Your writing servant, Goody.
