Chapter Eight: Simple Words

Greg grimaced as the small needle was inserted into his skin, pulling the long thread-like material after it, slowly pulling close the gash in his hand. He was thankful for the numbing agent the doctor had given him before setting the bone back into place, holding it firmly as he worked to stitch close the wound.

"You're lucky," the doctor told him, pulling the strand tight before tying it off. The doctor held his index, middle and ring finger together, making sure the bone was intact before wrapping it tightly in a protective casing before pulling the gauze around it.

"It was a clean break of the middle metacarpal, straight through the skin, painful, but fairly easy to set. It'll take a little longer to heal than a regular fracture, but you shouldn't have any complications after it does, though therapy wouldn't be a bad idea."

"But it will be okay?" Sara asked, watching as he finished.

"I a few months, yes," he picked up a chart, scribbling on it quickly. "The store has a pharmacy, in the back. Take this to them, get some pain medication; this is better than Advil and all those other ones. If the pain gets too bad, try soaking it in warm water, that should help. Use your hand no more than you have to. The cast will help secure the bones, but they still can move. Check back in about a week and a half, we'll see where you are then."

Sara shook her head, folding her arms. "You would have to think you did some damage to whoever you knocked with an injury like that."

"Not necessarily," the doctor looked up as he handed the paper to Greg. "A break like that, you're looking for something harder than a person's face. Mainly because your friend here is right handed, and the injury is to his left hand, and it's consistent with a downward injury. Normally these are seen with a sideways break or fracture."

"Could a flashlight cause this maybe?" Sara asked, after thinking for a moment.

The doctor nodded, "A metal flashlight, if the person was swinging it a downward motion and your friend caught it with an upward blow. That's very possible."

She nodded, "How much do we owe you?"

The doctor shook his head, "Don't worry about it, the convention covers all injuries. That's why Stiles didn't want any fighting. I don't blame him; he doesn't have a fortune to spend patching people up. Go get the meds, then get some rest." He shooed them out of the office.

When they returned to the cabin, Sara helped Greg take off his coat and shoes, despite the fact he insisted that he could do it on his own. After, she sat next to him on the couch, watching him as the silence went on. It was in the early hours of the morning now; the sun would be rising not too long from now.

"You still think about it?" Sara finally broke the silence, though her voice was not much louder.

For a moment Greg didn't respond, it was if he hadn't heard her, but finally he nodded, turning towards her.

"More often then enough. I try and forget about it, but for some reason I just can't," he stated.

Sara nodded, seemingly somewhat satisfied. "I thought they had killed you," she told him, finding that her hands were a lot more interesting to look at all of the sudden.

"But they didn't," Greg started, but was cut off from Sara.

"What if they did Greg? Then neither of us would be here now. I wouldn't have been able to make it through that night if it wasn't for you."

"Sure you would have," Greg told her, "you're tough."

"No…I mean," she let out a sigh, dropping her head into her hands. "I just don't get it."

"No one will understand why Sara, we can't say why stuff happens, it just does."

"That's not what I mean," she told him softly, wiping her eyes. "It doesn't matter what happens, it seems like you just bounce back from it. It's like it never even happened for you. Even after the lab explosion, I barely was caught in it, but still I was terrified to get even near the lab. Each time, I could see in my mind the fire and the smoke, the glass flying everywhere, and you…and you act like it never happened."

"Sara," Greg told her, leaning forward to place a hand on her shoulder, "Just because I don't say anything, doesn't mean I don't feel anything."

"Sure," Sara muttered, laughing softly, trying to shake off the sudden mood change.

"Honestly, after the explosion, I was afraid to go back to work. But it's what I loved doing, so I knew that I had to, if I wanted to continue doing what I enjoyed. I didn't say anything to anyone about my problems. I had trouble sleeping, and I felt sick whenever I was near the old lab there, and my hands," Greg explained, looking down at them. "I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking. It seemed like whatever I did, it wasn't enough. I tried ignoring it, hoping it would go away, but nothing seemed to work."

"They aren't shaking now," Sara muttered bitterly. She wasn't sure if what he was saying was true, or if he was just saying it to make her feel better.

"They calmed down after a while," Greg continued to explained. "Grissom even suggested I go in for counseling, but I declined. I felt that I could have handled it myself."

"You said you didn't tell anyone," Sara reminded him.

"I didn't" Greg confessed, "Grissom found out. Then he was upset with me for a while after because I didn't say anything sooner, and he wanted to know if it was affecting my work." He let out a sigh, seeing that none of this was convincing her.

Grabbing a hold of her shoulders he drew her gently into his hold, rubbing her back softly with his bandaged hand. She was tense under his hold, that much he could feel, but slowly, he felt her relax.

"You should try and get some sleep," Greg told her, knowing how tired she must be.

Sara shook her head, "Can't, I'm starving," she said with a little laugh. "I don't think I have to remind you that I didn't eat today."

"Well," Greg said, laughing as he gave her a tight hug, "if someone got up earlier than five minutes before class, they could eat something."

"And if someone didn't ruin a perfectly good lunch, they could have eaten too."

Greg smiled, leaning forward to kiss her softly on the forehead, "We could try the diner, it's open all night."

Sara nodded, sitting up after Greg let her go. "Here, I'll help you get your shoes on," she started, but Greg waved her off.

"If I'm going to have this thing on for the next couple of months, I need to learn to take care of myself."

Sara laughed, "Good luck, you can't even take care of yourself now."

He laughed sarcastically as she waited for him. After several attempts he gave her pleading, yet sheepish look. Sara giggled, dropping to her knees to help tie his laces. "Don't worry," she grinned at him, "You'll learn eventually."

"Yeah," Greg smiled, shaking his head, "Then I can sign up for one handed shoe lace tying competitions."

Sara laughed as she tied the last knot. "Come on, I'm starving," she responded, pulling on her own boots.

Neither of them slept that night, by the time they finished eating and returned to the cabin it was light outside. Still sleep wouldn't come for them. Greg was worried sick about what had happened; no doubt the entire town would know what had happened soon enough, not only about the night before, but as well as half a year ago. He wasn't ready to face the questions they would ask, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. Worse of all, he didn't know if he could protect Sara from it as well. She didn't deserve to be badgered about any of it.

Greg had been in and out of it for most of the ordeal; Sara had been awake nearly the entire time, from what he knew at least. She had seen a lot more than he had, a lot more than he would ever want to see.

Aside to that fact, the feeling in his hand was slowly coming back. And it hurt; quite badly he had to admit. If Sara noticed it, she didn't say anything. But he doubted she did, ever since coming back, she had been busy working on something, something that Greg couldn't see, and whenever he asked, she told him it was nothing.

Greg finally let her alone, picking his book up from the table next to the couch, trying to concentrate on something other than the pain. It wasn't that he enjoyed the pain; he hated taking medication, ever since he was little. Prescribed pills were worse, mainly because they were harder to swallow, and they came with a detestable drowsiness that you couldn't shake off. That plus the meds were in the cabinet above the sink, and that would require movement to get to them. At the moment, Greg wanted to do nothing of that sort.

It actually worked, for a bit anyways. More time had gone by than he assumed, engrossed in his book. It was his infuriated yell that surprised both him and Sara some time later. She looked up quickly where she sat on her bed, her back facing him.

"What?" she asked worriedly, watching him closely.

"The main character was just attacked by the villain and someone thought it would be humorous to glue the last four pages together!" Greg grumbled, snapping the book close. "I won't be able to find out what happens until we get back, that is so not cool."

Sara laughed softly, turning back to her project. "I never really took you for the reading type," she mentioned, still laughing.

"And why is that?" Greg wondered, still edgy about the unread ending. He was stretched out on the couch now, after starting from a sitting position. He legs were resting on the arm rests, the book now sitting in his lap, his good hand resting on the cover.

He could see Sara shrug, "I don't know, you just seem more like the adventure kind of guy, all go and no stop. I see you more as jumping-out-of-airplanes-bungee-jumping-deep-sea-diver-surfing-slash-scuba-diving type of junkie that doesn't know when to stop."

Greg nodded, "So, you never saw me as the night-working-evidence-collecting-microscope-viewing-DNA-analizing-junkie who never gets enough sleep?"

"Never," she answered in sweet tone.

"Well, that's good; I've never really seen you as a work-aholic."

"I'm not a work-aholic," Sara detested, but there was humor in her voice.

"You are too," Greg argued, smirking slightly even though she couldn't see him.

"I am not," she stated once again.

"Yes you are," Greg was nearly laughing now; it took all his will power not too.

"Okay, what do you see me as then?"

"A very beautiful women who is often misjudged and completely misunderstood at times."

To this Sara did not make a reply, and an uneasy silence passed by them. Greg finally risked breaking the silence.

"I can't believe I just said that," Greg laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Sara encouraged him, "you're right." She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "And I'm glad there's someone like you who can see me for who I really am."

Greg just shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable than before. "What are you doing?"

"I'm almost finished," Sara told him. A few minutes later she swung her legs off the bed, coming over to him.

"I picked these up when we got your meds, had to work on them though, with your hand and all."

Greg nearly laughed at the gloves she had presented him with, the left one had the stitching removed from the three middle fingers, and was sewn back together as a whole, so that it would fit over his cast and bandages.

"I didn't know you could sew," Greg admitted, as he let her help pull the fabric on.

Sara just grinned, "Learned it in High School, counselor said I would love the class."

"Did you?"

"Loved the class, hated the teacher," she explained quickly.

"On the bad side?" Greg wondered, inspecting the newly modeled glove. It felt odd, but it fit nicely, and would work well in keeping his hand warm in the sub-freezing temperatures.

"No," Sara said with a shrug, "the teacher thought it was necessary to explain every last detail. First day of class, she spent twenty minutes explaining how to cook a bag of popcorn."

Greg laughed, "No way."

Sara nodded, "Yes way. It was our first assignment too. It was like that for 180 days. I nearly celebrated when we had substitutes."

"Sad," Greg said with a smile. Sara returned the smile, and for while no one spoke. Greg finally shifted, looking out the window. It was still in the early part of the day. "You want to do something?" he asked, "We don't have class until Monday again."

Sara shrugged, "There really isn't much to do. The road's closed below us so that ops out anything to do in Portland, or the other towns around here."

"What about hiking?" Greg suggested.

Sara raised an eyebrow. "In this weather?"

Greg shrugged, looking away. It was a long shot idea, mostly stupid, but he was just giving suggestions. He was surprised when Sara shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

"Really," Greg asked, surprise lining his features.

Sara nodded, "Nothing better to do. Let's go see what trails are open."

Greg sat up, smiling some. "Okay, let's go hike."

They had spent the rest of the day looking over the trails that surrounded the mountain. At the front of the store, a large map that covered half the wall, outlined all the paths in red colored pencil. Greg and Sara picked out several trails that seemed interesting, before agreeing on one that followed along the slope of the mountain, past a small lake where they could take their lunch. That night they had packed bags, and left early the next morning, flashlights in their hands.

It was slightly warmer than the day before, not by much however. The pair was slowly becoming accustomed to the drastic change in temperature. When they left Vegas nearly a week ago, the highs were in the eighties. Here, the highs were in the twenties.

Sara let out a sigh, her breathe leaving a visible trail floating up towards the treetops. "You had to pick the roughest trail," she complained, emphasizing each word with every step she took.

"Hey," Greg slowed down just enough to take a look over his shoulder at her. "You agreed on this trail too, may I remind you."

"That was before I knew it was like this," She shot back.

He grinned at her before turning back around to see where he was going. It was light outside now, close to noon Greg supposed, but he could be quite sure. They had passed the third mile marker a while back, and since then, the trail had become steeper, and it was clear by the amount of snow piled up, that it had not been traveled recently.

"The lake shouldn't be too far now," Greg called back over his shoulder, grabbing onto several branches as the ground became slippery. "Watch you step, we have some ice up here," he warned.

Sara nodded, holding onto the same branches as Greg had as she crossed over the ice patch, falling in directly behind Greg as the path became narrower. They continued like this for some time, taking each step carefully. Most of the area up here had frozen over, and it was making the hike even harder.

Sara came to a stop behind Greg, who had taken a moment to rest, and survey the area around them. She didn't say anything, only watched as he glanced around, a wistful look settling on his face with each passing minute. "We should head back," Greg told her, to which she nodded.

It was getting too dangerous, the path had taken a sharp turn upward, running alongside a long sloping hill, and with the ground being loaded with patches of ice, things could get precarious. "It was fun while it lasted," Sara suggested, and indeed it had. One of the reasons they had left so early was to avoid any questions from the previous night. There was no doubt that word had already gotten around town of the fight that had broken out, and Sara knew that neither her nor Greg were ready to answer any questions.

Taking the lead, Sara slowly made her way back down that path, being as a careful as she was coming up. She could hear Greg behind her, the steady crunching of his boots in the slick snow. It definitely would be nice to be back on steady ground.

Greg had been disappointed, he had wanted to continue, mainly because he hadn't wanted to go back quite yet. He would be glad when this seminar was over. Things were beginning to bother him; he wanted to know what the rumors were about, the ones that were floating around the town. He had only caught some of what they were, it was about the two of them, but what exactly, he wasn't sure. To make matters worse, he was afraid to find out how many people knew about their accident half a year ago. Greg had tried his hardest to forget about it, but still, the smallest things brought back the memories. He no longer shopped in small stores, and avoided trunks as much as possible. Though sometimes he found himself thinking about it even without anything provoking him.

A cry from Sara shook him free of his thoughts, and looked up just in time to see Sara slipping, straight down the side of the hill. At first he could only watch, him mind taking a second to register what was actually happening.

"Sara!" Greg yelled, moving after her quickly, trying to find the easiest way down the steep hill. Finally giving up in his task, he just jumped over the small ridge, half sliding half running down, doing his best to avoid the trees that were in his way.

He yelled her name again as she came to a stop at the bottom, where the ground flattened out, but she didn't get up. It was a distraction that cost him, taking his eyes off where he was going, it ended up sending him into a head first roll the rest of the way down. And for the first time since the two had passed by on the trail, all was quite in the glen.

TBC

To all my wonderful reviewers!

Some guesses on the 'villian' I guess you could call it, won't say if you are right or wrong, I haven't elborated on too much of that yet, but it will start to get into by the next chapter. Keep reviewing, and when I get a decent break from work, meaning a day where I actually work less than 10 hours, I may actaully have time enough to respond toeveryone! Cheers for now, keep reading, keep reviewing!