A/N: Usual. Not much to say. The usual apologies also for the shortness of this chapter. The next couple are longer. See end of chapter for another note.
Chapter 9- Perfect World
"In a perfect world
This could never happen
In a perfect world
You'd still be here
And it makes no sense
I could just pick up the pieces
But to you
This means nothing, nothing at all"
Perfect World by Simple Plan
The air-lift went without a hitch. Greg was lifted by helicopter to O'Hare, and then sent by plane to Vegas, where he was met by another helicopter to take him to Desert Palms. Once there, he was ushered to a private room where the CSIs were waiting. They had opted to leave before him so that they could arrive and be ready to welcome him home. Greg, of course, had no idea about the small "party" taking place, since he was still comatose. In actuality, the party was more of a funeral, sans the bad organ music and dark suits. There were tears, mostly from Catherine, and everyone just stood around talking in hushed voices, as if they would wake Greg from sleeping if they spoke any louder. It was Nick who noticed how dismal the welcoming committee had become, and spoke up over the whispered conversations. "Hey, guys, he's not dead yet."
Everyone stopped talking and stared at him, shocked. Nick continued, "I mean, the doctors said that chances are in favor of a full recovery, right? And you know that Greg wouldn't want us to sit here and mourn for him, so..."
Sara's voice cut him off. "Obviously he did, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to kill himself." The bitterness in her voice was like a slap in the face. She didn't stop there, though. "As far as I'm concerned, the Greg I knew died as soon as thoughts of suicide ran through his head." She looked at them all, then turned and walked out of the room.
Nick started after her, but Grissom stopped him, and then went after her himself. "Hey, Sidle! Sidle!" called Grissom, jogging to catch up. He slowed as he approached. "Do you want to explain that little outburst back there?"
Sara stopped and turned to him, deadly calm. "I spoke the truth, unlike everyone else, acting like nothing had changed. I..."
Grissom's cell erupted in rings. Grissom checked the ID, then said, "This might change your mind." He listened intensely, said thanks, then hung up. "Well, I've got some good news. The Greg that tried to kill himself wasn't the Greg that you knew, unless you knew Greg when he was on Claviceps purpurea, more commonly known as ergot."
"Ergot?" asked Sara in confusion.
"A fungus that grows on damp barley, and a compound in LSD. It's a hallucinogen, obviously, and Greg tested positive for it."
"He was drugged?"
"My guess—no. Natural ergot isn't like most synthetic and even most natural drugs. It's rarely manufactured anymore because its life is short and it can be transmitted through the air. It's safer to make it synthetically. Of course, large quantities would be needed to make someone suffer the hallucinations that Greg did, so what I think is that a nearby farmer had stocked up his barley somewhere close and the fungus became airborne."
Sara nodded slowly. "Ok, so he was affected by the barley that contained ergot, and then suffered hallucinations. Did the ergot also provide the suicidal tendencies?"
Grissom balked at that. "I'm afraid not. His own mind provided that as a solution."
Sara's eyes were bright again. "So in other words, the ergot doesn't explain anything."
Grissom sighed. "No, I guess not." Sara nodded, then turned to leave. "Sara?" called Grissom. She half-turned back, sadly. "Don't hold it against him. We don't know what kind of hell he lived through in his head."
A/N(Again): Ergot/Claviceps Purpurea is in fact a real drug, and it does grow on damp barley, etc. True Story. I couldn't make that up if I tried.