A/N: Well, another unhappy chapter on its way. This really won't get happy until around chapter 28 or so. Then it'll be happy until about chapter 34. So there's a bit of happiness coming up if y'all will just hold on for it. In any case, usual disclaimer with the addition of an evil Ecklie in this chapter. Read on!

Chapter 24- Smile Like You Mean It

"Looking back
At sunsets on the Eastside
We lost track
Of the time
Dreams aren't what they used to be
Some things slide by so carelessly

Smile like you mean it
Smile like you mean it"

Smile Like You Mean It by the Killers

Greg once again found himself in a wheelchair, being wheeled out of the hospital, but this time, he felt no relief at leaving. His grip on Sara's hand never lessened as the attendant rolled him up to her car, parked in front of the hospital. Once more, he was settled into the front seat, and once more was driven away from the hospital, but this time he left knowing that he had to be back in only a few days for his first appointment with Dr. Martinez, the AIDS specialist recommended by Dr. Johnson.

Until then, there was nothing for Greg to do but go back to work. Grissom had tried to make him take a medical leave, but Greg had pointed out that he'd be taking enough of those in the near future, including an indefinite leave one day. Grissom had then relented, under the stipulation that upon Greg's arrival at the lab, he explain to everyone what he had. Grissom had insisted that keeping his disease a secret would only hurt more than help, so here Greg was, on his way to tell his friends, coworkers, and possibly the only family he had left that he had less than a year to live.

The prospect of telling them actually scared him more than the prospect of dying. He knew how they'd react, Nick with probably a choice swear word and a punch to the wall, Warrick with his indignant anger and concern, and Catherine with her tears and motherly disbelief and denial.

As they got closer to the lab, Greg's grip on his armrest gradually tightened, his knuckles turning white with the strain. Sara threw him a concerned glance, but he wasn't paying attention, concentrating instead on the buildings that slid past as they drove on.

They finally reached the lab, Sara pulling the car into its usual parking place, and Greg slowly got out, standing with his hands in his pockets and just looking at the door, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he struggled to keep his composure.

Sara came up behind him and wordlessly took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Together they entered and walked slowly to the break room, where Grissom had gathered the rest of the night shift. Greg looked in through the window and saw them sitting together, laughing at some joke Nick had cracked. They seemed so happy, and Greg knew that he was going to take that away.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and held it for Sara before shutting it behind him. He swallowed hard and said quietly, "Hey guys, I've got some news."

Silence fell as the three of them looked at him, concern and confusion wrinkling their brows. As Greg looked at them, he felt his throat seize up and he couldn't speak. Then he looked at Grissom, and was instantly encouraged just by the older man's calm presence. He looked at Sara and took strength from the love that burned in her eyes.

With another deep breath, he said, "Guys…I found out a few days ago that I have AIDS. According to the doctor, I have about a year, possibly less. So…yeah."

Shocked silence met him as they stared at him. "What? How?" exclaimed Nick, looking at Grissom in confusion. "I thought we tested Bruno! I thought he came back clean!"

"He did," responded Grissom calmly.

"But then…how?" asked Nick.

Greg blushed slightly, and he said quietly, "My dad. He…I…he raped me." He fell silent and dropped his eyes, afraid to look at them, to see the fear and revulsion playing on their faces.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms encircle him, and he looked up to find Catherine hugging him. "Oh, God, Greg," she murmured, hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry."

Warrick and Nick hadn't moved; they both sat in shock. Warrick spoke up then. "But…surely there're treatments, right? AZT or something, right?"

Greg shook his head sadly. "AZT might not work at this point. I go in a couple of days to discuss my options."

Now Nick spoke, in a dead, hollow-sounding voice. "Less than a year?" Not trusting himself to say it again, Greg just nodded. "Fuck," muttered Nick, abruptly standing and striding from the room, tears streaming down his face.

"Nick!" called Grissom, making as if to stand, but Greg stopped him.

"I'll go." He left, knowing exactly where Nick had gone. He climbed the stairs two at a time. Nick sat on the edge of the roof, cradling his arm and seemingly oblivious to the tears coursing down his cheeks.

"Nick?" asked Greg tentatively, coming over and standing next to him. "Shit, Nick, you're bleeding!" he exclaimed, fumbling for his handkerchief and pressing it against Nick's hand, the knuckles of which were bleeding fairly freely.

Nick looked down at them as if noticing it for the first time. "Oh. Yeah. I punched the wall." He looked up at Greg sadly. "Why you, man? Why is it always you?"

Greg sighed and sat down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I dunno, maybe God just hates me," he said slowly. "Maybe I fucked up royally in another life. Believe me, if I had known this would happen, I would never have done anything wrong."

Shaking his head emphatically, Nick said, "It's not your fault, Greggo. Don't blame yourself for this."

Greg smiled wryly. "This conversation sounds familiar, except I think last time the roles were reversed."

Nick didn't smile. "Greg, I mean it. What your father did to you…it wasn't your fault. None of this was."

Greg just shrugged, staring out into the city. "Yeah, but whether or not it was my fault, I'm still the one who has to live with the repercussions," he reminded Nick.

They both fell silent for a moment until Greg said quietly, "You know what the worst part is? I was happy when the bastard died. I thought he couldn't hurt me anymore. God, I was wrong. He's gone right back to fucking everything up. My job's fucked, my health's fucked, God, even my relationship with Sara is fucked."

Nick looked up sharply. "What do you mean, your relationship with Sara? She didn't dump you when…when you found out, did she? 'Cause if she did, I swear…"

Greg held up a hand to stop him. "No, actually, I'm kind of the one who broke things off with her. I told her we can't get married."

Nick didn't say anything. Greg shot him a sideways glance. "Surely you don't think…"

Now it was Nick's turn to hold up a hand for silence. "Greg, I'm not going to get in the middle of this. It's for you and her to work out, not me." He checked his watch. "Shit, we better get back or Grissom'll fire us both."

Greg stood. "God, that's the last thing I need. No job would mean no money, and I've got precious little of that as it is."

Nick stood as well, giving Greg a concerned look. "Greg, do you need help paying for treatments? 'Cause, man, all you gotta do is ask, and it's yours."

"No, man, I'll be fine. I'll figure something out."

Nick shrugged. "Ok, whatever you say, but remember, I'm here for you, no matter what, ok?"

"Yeah, thanks. Now let's go or else Grissom will fire us."

An hour later, Greg sat in the DNA lab, idly tapping his pencil against the desk while he waited for his results. He was startled by Ecklie storming in and snapping, "Sanders, my office, now!", before marching out again. Greg hurried to follow him, passing by Hodges in Trace, who shot him a better-you-than-me smirk.

He entered Ecklie's office after knocking once. The first thing he saw was Grissom, who was standing off to one side, looking, to put it mildly, absolutely furious.

Ecklie sat behind his desk, giving Greg the cold, impersonal look of a man who didn't give a damn about any of his underlings. "Sanders, Grissom has just informed me that you are HIV positive. Is that correct?" Greg nodded wordlessly. "Why didn't you tell me yourself?"

Greg frowned slightly. "According to the handbook, I only have to notify my supervisor when I contract a life-threatening illness, which I did, seeing as Grissom, not you, is my supervisor."

Ecklie's mouth puckered slightly. "Mr. Sanders, do you have any idea how bad this could look for the lab? What the repercussions of having an HIV-positive lab tech could be?" Greg didn't respond, his face impassive, and Ecklie leaned back in his chair, studying him. "The best course of action," he began, cold eyes watching Greg, "for both the lab and the team, would be to fire you immediately."

"Conrad, this is absurd!" exploded Grissom, his face taking on a dangerous hue of red. "Greg has been living with HIV for sixteen years and never once contaminated evidence. He—"

He was cut off in mid-sentence by a knock on the door. It was Hodges. "Um, sorry. I just wanted to let you know I had your samples done," he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Ecklie nodded. "Alright, David, thank you. I'll be in shortly."

Hodges nodded and turned to go, but then he turned back. "Sir? I couldn't help but overhear, and I wanted to express my opinion on the matter at hand."

Ecklie leaned forward, interested, while Greg closed his eyes, afraid to hear what Hodges had to say about him.

"Sir, I know Greg and I have had our many, varied differences in the past, and while I may not always approve of the way he does his job, I must say that he is the best DNA technician I have ever met, and firing him would not only cause this lab to lose many team members, who would most likely quit, but also its best DNA tech."

Greg opened his eyes in shock, swiveling around to face Hodges, who, looking slightly embarrassed about what he had just said, made a hasty retreat.

Grissom allowed himself a small smile, which Greg shared, before turning back to Ecklie, who looked like he had either swallowed something sour or had just had his favorite toy taken away.

"Very well, Sanders, you can stay," he said reluctantly. "But under certain provisions. Firstly, you will notify me first whenever something new medically occurs with you, including treatment and medicine. Secondly, you will be required to attend mandatory therapy sessions. They can be group or individual, but the last thing I need is for you to have an emotional breakdown at work. Speaking of work, you'd better be getting back to it."

Greg nodded, muttered his thanks, and took off, heading not to the DNA lab, but instead towards Trace. He stood in the doorway and raised an eyebrow at Hodges. "I think I owe you my undying gratitude," he said, leaning casually against the door.

Hodges shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, you know how it is…actually, now that you mention it, I think an eternity of servitude is in order, and we'll see where it goes from there."

Greg grinned. "Thanks Hodges." He turned and started to leave, then asked slowly, "Why'd you do it?"

Hodges once again shrugged. "Who would I make fun of if you were gone? Besides, my uncle died of AIDS, so…And," he added, his ears turning pink. "I guess I'd miss you, just a little."

Greg just shook his head and smiled. "I guess I'd miss you, too."

Hodges nodded once, then said, "Now get out, Sanders! Unlike some of us, I actually have work to do."

Greg left, still smiling. Some things never change.

Greg stood in the bathroom, coughing slightly as he finished regurgitating his dinner into the toilet. He looked in the mirror, taking in the shadows under his eyes, and murmured aloud, "God, I can't control this, can I?"

His gaze fell on the razor blade he had set next to the sink when he was changing blades on his razor. He picked it up and looked at it for a second before drawing it gently across his upper arm. He hissed as it broke the skin, then sighed as he felt the pain…pain he brought on, pain he could control. It was beautiful.

"Greg, are you coming?" called Sara from the bedroom. She was staying at his place now. This had been a sort of unstated agreement they had come upon sometime that day.

"Yeah, I'll be right there, sweetie."

Greg opened the cabinet and hid the blade in the back before wiping off the blood, rolling his sleeve down, turning off the light and joining Sara in bed.

A/N: Eek, things just keep spiraling downward for poor Greggo, don't they? Never fear, the self-mutilation part is very brief, only featured in the next three chapters.