A/N: There's a hint of House in here. Can you find it?

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"Greg! Bror! You're here!" Petite arms crushed him in an enveloping hug as a flash of mousy brown hair collided with him.

Looking down at the top of his sister's head, Greg squirmed uncomfortably. "Can't...breate...Em," he wheezed, grinning cheekily as she let him go with an elbow to the ribs.

"Svekling," Emily teased affectionately with a smile. "I didn't think you were coming so soon. Where's Sara?" Her eyes twinkled in mischief.

He shook his head, shifting embarassedly from foot to foot. Seeing a tall figure come up, he used the person as an excuse. "Hey, Matt!" The former labrat said a little too cheerfully.

"Hey, dude!" The two men shook hands.

Wagging her finger at him in a grandmotherly fashion, Emily pouted. "Don't dodge the question!"

"What question?"

Narrowing her eyes, she glared menacingly. "Are you being intentionally dense?"

"Huh?"

Emily turned to her husband, ignoring her laughing brother for the time being. After ordering Matt to take Greg's stuff to the guest room, she fixed her attention back to the visitor. "You must be hungry," she said as the threesome headed inside the spacious two-story house. "Have you eaten anything?"

Greg shrugged. "I stopped at the Waffle House at some rest stop between LA and Vegas."

His sister rolled her eyes at him before roughly shoving him towards the kitchen. "Why didn't you say so! You need to eat!" She adominished.

Smothering a grin, he sighed dramatically as he plopped himself into a comfy stool at the breakfast bar. "You sound just like mamma."

Huffing, Emily childishly poked her tongue out at him, but went on to make him a delicious double-decker turkey sandwich. Greg smiled happily.

He loved his Las Vegas family, but nothing ever beat going home to his real familie.

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Huh.

It was never this dark in California. Or Vegas, for that matter.

Wait a second.

Where was he again?

That white room, he remembered.

Except now, it was black.

Weird.

Oh, wait. His eyes were closed.

Trying to open his eyes, he found that it was too much effort. His eyelids were heavy, as if they were anchored down by dead weight.

Funny though, he seemed to have all his other senses intact.

He could definitely feel something warm brushing against his hand. Soft and gentle.

Someone speaking, he heard that too. More than one person, vaguely familiar. One male, one female.

And now something wet was on his hands, cool and trickling.

It took him a moment, but then he realized he wished that he could see the crystal drops against his skin.

Tears.

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She stormed angrily throughout the halls of the crime lab, blue eyes darting from side to side as she searched for one Greg Sanders.

"Where the hell is he?" She muttered as the rookie lab techs told her that Greg hadn't come in and as Judy said he hadn't passed by the reception desk. "He's going to be dead when I find him."

"Who are you looking for?" An amused voice asked as the strawberry-blonde nearly trampled its owner in her rage.

Focusing on the pale face of Sara, she fumed. "Greg! I've been searching for him all fucking day and I can't find him!"

The brunette laughed, which wasn't a good idea since her co-worker was positively boiling. "Well, you're definitely looking in the wrong place, Cath."

Catherine raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow. "What are you talking about? He has to be at work!"

In turn, Sara shot her an inquistive look. "Didn't you know? He's in Cali right now."

"And what the hell is he doing there?"

Sara shrugged, but her mood diminished a bit. The Walter Gordon incident was really no light matter, and even who-gives-a-rat's-ass-about-you Ecklie was more kinder to Nick. "It's kinda nice to visit your family when you're on break, don't you think?"

"Oh." Catherine's anger deflated as she understood. "If anybody, it's Nick we should be worried about."

Frowning, Sara stood up for her friend. "Of course I'm worried. But it didn't affect only him, you know. All of us were pretty down."

"That's rich, coming from you." The barb came out unintentionally, but it was true.

Biting back a retort, the corners of Sara's mouth turned downwards even further. Sometimes she could be insensitive, but Nick was her best friend and Catherine had no right to say that she didn't care. "Greg will be giving us a call every day. Just to let us know he's alright."

Now the older woman was amused. "Us? Or you?" She knowingly teased, watching as a pink flushed through the other woman's skin.

"Me. Now if you excuse me, I've got to go see Hodges on that stationary paper I found." Sara stalked down the hallway, leaving a laughing Catherine behind.

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More sounds.

He lost count now, after ten people or so. They all sounded familiar, except for a few.

The few did not sounded more serious than sad, it seemed.

Everybody seemed sad. Sniffling, sobbing, sympathizing with the others.

He heard one of the unknown voices come closer, almost right next to him.

A prick into his arm, and he felt something drain from him.

It felt like blood.

It was blood.

Imagining the ruby liquid that was his life essence being taken away.

The prick disappeared, followed by what seemed like a sticky covering.

A bandaid, he guessed.

The room was still to dark to distinguish anything from too-dark shadows.

He hoped it was the kind with X-men on it.

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It had been a long while since he had actually seen the ocean.

The kind with real sand and actual waves and honest-to-god seagulls that pooped on the rainbow umbrellas once in a while.

Man, did the water feel great.

"This definitely beats Lake Mead!" Greg shouted to his family (extended too) as they splashed through the cool liquid in a game of Marco Polo. He wondered if Sara had ever played that game, and made a mental note to take the whole lab down to the beach for a day.

"How is that even a beach anyway?" His grandfather Olaf said incredulously as he sat in a blue beach chair at the edge of the water. "It can't be as good as this. Umulig!"

Greg's mother nodded in agreement from the beach towel she was sun-tanning on. "It is impossible."

Emily grinned as she dunked her brother under the surface. Giggling as he came up sputtering and spitting, she shook her head. "How you can live there is beyond me."

Wiping the water from his lips, Greg shrugged. "It's nice."

"You solve crime there. How is that nice?" His blonde cousin Tara asked in wonder. "Sounds like crap."

Greg's aunt gasped. "Tara! Det var uhøflig! Greg can live where he sees fit."

"Beklager , moder."

Nodding in approval, his aunt then turned to her blushing nephew, she smiled gently. "But she is right, kjære. You should stay here, with us."

He paused. He really did love his friends, especially Sara. She was his bekjent, his closest friend.After what happened already with him, and with what happened with Nick, it almost seemed like a good idea, though.

Almost.

Not wanting to ponder on it further, Greg turned his mind for some good ol' revenge for that dunk.

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Ouch was an understatement.

Even without being able to see, he could definitely feel the pain running through his legs and arms.

Needles and pins, thousands of them just poking. And poking. And poking.

God, it hurt.

Almost like a steamroller had tried to roll all his limbs flat. So that he couldn't move them.

His head, too. Seemed like somebody tried to sledgehammer his head.

It was thankfully intact though, he could tell that much.

The lab accident didn't compare to what he was feeling now.

Burns, no sweat. Paralyzed from head to toe, no way.

That word rang over and over in his pounding mind.

Paralyzed.

Oh no.