Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish I did, but I don't. Que Sera Sera

(In this story, to avoid using the same word over and over again, the action "to vomit" has been substituted with the following terms: EARP, honk, spew, retch, hurl, puke, toss, blow, up-chuck whistle, recapitulate and projectile vomiting, as well as other such terms)

Lockdown

"It was like a great big emotional enema." Jim said in earnest

This comment elicited some strange looks from his colleagues as they tried to keep straight faces. Jim was explaining some of the details of the seminar that he attended the previous weekend. Lately, Jim had been spending time with a group of men that for lack of better terms; "howled at the moon" and covered themselves in mud and played "Caveman" in the woods of Nevada. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to get Gil, Nick, Warrick and Greg to go with him; the other men being content to sit back and listen as Jim regaled them with tales and accountings of his own particular experiences.

They all sat at the conference table in the break room eating their evening meals when a package came for Gil. Wendy, the receptionist delivered it and placed it on the table in front of him. Looking at it curiously, Gil reached into his pocket and pulled out his lock-back knife and slit the tape along the seams and lifted the flaps to reveal a small plastic tub with a biohazard sticker on it. Quickly, he closed the flaps and carried it down to the DNA lab.

In the lab, Grissom found Greg sitting on a stool, his butt bouncing happily from side to side as the sounds of "Outkast" and "Hey Ya" poured from the ear buds of his headset. Knowing that Greg was oblivious to his presence, Grissom could not pass up the chance to scare the living poop out of the poor lab tech. Slowly and deliberately, he reached out his hand and poked a strong finger at Greg's back.

Whipping around and nearly flying off his perch, Greg snapped.

"Jesus, Grissom. Whatcha tryin' to do; give me a myocardial infarction?"

Grissom belted out with a hearty belly laugh as he plopped the box on the counter in front of Greg. He lifted the flaps, once again, and as Greg looked into the box, he scrambled off his stool and scurried down the hall to the morgue. Grissom stood, wide eyed, as he waited for Greg to return. Moments later, the young man returned with two gowns, thick latex gloves, face masks, goggles and a roll of duct tape; all of which, he set on the counter in front of Grissom.

Both of them having dressed and reasonably protected themselves, Greg tore several strips of tape off the roll and wrapped them around the gloves at Grissom's wrists. Returning the favour, Grissom peered into the box and carefully lifted the bucket out, placing it on the counter.

Turning to Grissom, Greg hissed.

"And what, might I ask, possessed you to bring this to me?"

"Well, its not a job for the coroner, I assume. So, you're the only logical choice." He replied

Slowly, Greg took a scalpel and sliced the tape. Seeing the contents, Greg turned his head and promptly honked into the basin at his feet. Seeing his colleague's reaction, Grissom looked deep into the plastic container. The contents were clear in colour and there was a very unsavory odor emanating from within, almost like that of cloves. Spatula in hand, Grissom swirled the business end in the pail and sieved the contents. Nothing came up and as he placed the spatula in a nearby sink, he looked down at Greg.

"You gonna live?" he asked

Greg made no discernable sounds, but kept heaving into the basin, which he now hugged to him as though his life depended on it. Kneeling beside him, Grissom put a hand to Greg's forehead and recoiled in horror.

"Greg, you're burning up."

Standing quickly, Grissom looked at the pail on the counter and slapped the lid back on it. Rushing to the phone on the wall, he dialed the first number that came to him.

In the break room, everyone was still eating, save for Sara, who had been sitting next to Grissom when he had been given the box. She had gone to the rest room and at present, had her head above the porcelain god.

Catherine's cell phone rang and placing her sandwich in front of her, she flipped it open and answered.

"Catherine Willows"

"Catherine, this is Gil. I need you to call Haz-Mat and have them quarantine the building."

"Why? What's wrong, Gil?" she asked in concerned tones

"That package I just got; well, Greg got one whiff of it and he's puking. He's also burning up. Is anyone else looking kind of green?" he enquired

"Well, come to think of it, Sara's been gone for a while." She replied

Grissom could hear Catherine talking to the group. She asked for someone to find Sara and check on her. Jim scooted his chair back and exited the break room, heading down the hall, calling for Sara. As he came to the locker room, he heard an all too familiar retching sound coming from within. Slowly and cautiously, he covered his eyes, save for a small slit between his fingers, and made his way to the bathroom.

"I swear, I'm not a perv. Sara, are you in here?" he called out

From around the corner, he could see the soles of Sara's shoes from under one of the stall doors. He uncovered his eyes and knocked on the door. Getting no response, he spoke up.

"Ok, like I said, I'm not being a pervert, but, Sara, I'm gonna open the door."

Slowly, Jim pushed the door and it swung open to reveal Sara on her knees, one hand holding her hair back and the other hand gripping on for dear life to the rim of the toilet seat. Seeing her in this state, Jim bent down and reached into his pocket, pulling out a rubber band. In a very sweet and loving tone, Jim spoke to her.

"Ok, Honey. I'm just gonna tie this back for you. Ok?"

Jim took her bangs and pulled them back along with the rest of her hair that was getting in the way. Within a few seconds, her hair was pulled back in a sort of ponytail and she looked up at him. Sara's face was red and the sweat was running down her face and into her eyes. She tried to blink back the sweat, but just the slightest of movements made her stomach turn. Jim walked over to the sink and pulled up a few paper towels. Returning to Sara, he wiped her face and handed her a few for her mouth. Keeping her eyes closed, Sara shifted her weight to her knees that were, now, on the floor. Turning her head to the side, she managed a few words.

"Oh, Jim, I'm..........I'm............EARP!!!!"

And with that, she quickly turned back to the bowl and recapitulated what was left of her lunch. Seeing that Sara was in obvious discomfort, Jim rushed back to the break room. As he left Sara in the stall, he called over his shoulder.

"I'll be back in a minute. Yell if you need anything."

Returning to the break room, Jim saw everyone running, quite literally, in circles, with no particular destination. Seeing Catherine on the phone, apparently in a very intense conversation, Jim turned to Nick and Warrick. Both men were pacing back and fourth.

"What happened?" Jim asked

"Catherine's on the horn with Haz-Mat. We're in lockdown mode." Nick explained

"Why?"

"Well, that package Grissom got is apparently hazardous. Greg's puking his guts out in DNA, with a fever. Uter is green already and I'm getting a bit dizzy." Warrick explained

Jim thought for a minute and without another word, he ran back to Sara. When he found her, she was in a bit of a better place than she was before, now sitting on the edge of the toilet, eyes closed, head in her hands and breathing kind of rapidly. Jim skidded to a stop beside her and gazed at her. He had never seen anything like this before. He had seen people get sick before, but never this quickly. Silently, he wondered what Grissom must have done to piss someone off like this, that they'd send him something so toxic.

Back in the DNA lab, Grissom lifted the plastic pail from the carton and noticed a piece of folded paper underneath. Carefully, he lifted it out and unfolded it, reading aloud.

"My dear, Mr. Grissom, You don't know me, but I am more than familiar with you and your exploits. You, sir, need to be taken down a peg or two. This little care package should illustrate my point. Have fun and remember, you may think you're God, but, you're not. It is not for you to decide who lives and dies. In this particular instance, I get to make the decision. Regards, Sir Bedevere."

Scratching his head for a moment, it was not long before Grissom realized that his mysterious benefactor had a truly warped sense of humour. The reference to Sir Bedevere was clearly from Monty Python's Holy Grail, which Gil knew from start to finish. In the film, two of the knights visited Castle Anthrax, so, placing all his eggs in one basket, he surmised that the gift must be anthrax. Taking a slide and dropping a dollop of the concoction on it, he slid it into the Gas Chromatograph Mass Spectrometer and hit the analyze button. He stood, rigid while he awaited the results.

Helping Sara to her feet, Jim grabbed one of the waste baskets from the bathroom and, hand on her elbow, he guided her to his office. The whole time her eyes were closed and she was breathing through her nose. Jim offered some words of encouragement to her, but they fell on deaf ears as she began to wobble from side to side.

As they passed the break room, Jim could hear Catherine, still on the phone with Haz-Mat. Her tone was soft, but forceful and she was relaying directions to the person on the other end of the line.

Thinking to himself, Jim wondered if they would all make it out of this alive. And to that question, he had no answer.

TBC?---