A/N - ok I followed the request of one of my reviewers and here is chapter two. there wasn't going to be anymore but i thought about it and realised i am addicted to writing about Greg even if I am putting him through some shit times in this one.

Anyway the purpose of this chapter is to explain some of the relationship that Greg had with his girlfriend and look a bit more into how he is dealing with losing her. The story is still from his point of view.

hope you all enjoy.

Out Of Context Chapter Two

© CSI Dork 2005.

I woke up three hours later in a room that was not my own. I could hear the muffled humming of machinery and the occasional distinct shout of 'more morphine' and 'get her up to x-ray now!' I realised I was in a hospital but couldn't recollect how or why I was here.

As my eyes blurred into focus again and the bittersweet smell of latex gloves and hospital disinfectant reached my nostrils I became aware that I was not alone in the room. A faint rasping sound was teasing the air, playing a restful harmony to the shouts of the doctors and whirr of machinery. Turning to my left I found Gil Grissom sitting in a chair beside the bed, sleeping gently. I wasn't aware that Gil Grissom knew what sleep was. I always assumed he lived, ate and breathed for the lab but never slept.

A faint chuckle arose from the back of my throat at the sight of my sleeping superior. He obviously wasn't sleeping that soundly as his eyes shot open and he sat almost to attention. The look on his face reminded me why I was here. I gasped as images like snapshots taken of a crime scene flew threw my mind. Blood. Shoe. Face. My heart torn out without warning. I took deeper and deeper breaths but still it felt like I was being strangled. I had never known pain like this and I wasn't aware that it was physical possible to feel like you were being murdered by your own emotions. I could hear the autopsy report now as Dr Robbins staples up my y-cut. 'Greg Sanders, 31 years old, Asphyxia resulting from a broken heart.'

Why did I do this to myself? The love of my life was dead, lying in a mortuary drawer and still I was making jokes. Not that I voiced them. Grissom was still sitting in his chair looking uncomfortable as I continued to gasp for air.

'Are you all right Greg?' he asked, quietly.

All right? ALL RIGHT! I wanted to scream at him; of course I wasn't all right. The ground had been pulled out from underneath my feet and dropped me what felt like a thousand miles only to spit me back out again and toss me around in the depths of what was this new painful reality. I wasn't floating like a weed or finding strength in my own denial or naivety. I knew exactly what had happened to me, what it meant and that I couldn't do a thing about it. Was it normal to be so accepting straight away? Then again was it normal to be breathing like a broken bagpipe…

I tried to calm myself, tell myself I had to be strong and slowly but surely my lungs being to relax and allow the air in. Once I was sure that I was not going to say anything unfair or untoward to Grissom, I turned to him and asked the question that had been on my mind since I woke.

'What am I doing in the hospital?'

Grissom sat upright in his chair and he looked relieved that he had a question that he could confidently answer. Grissom was like that, he liked having the answers, got seriously pissed when he couldn't find them. When it came to people everyone knew he was uncomfortable with helping them deal which is why I was surprised that he had clearly been sitting here for a while waiting for me to wake.

'You had a panic attack and passed out at the lab,' Grissom explained.

'Oh o.k,' was all I could manage.

'How do you feel know?' another stupid question from the brilliant Gil Grissom.

He looked at the floor as if he had read my mind. He knew it was stupid to ask but clearly silence was not golden to him. He would rather make idle pointless chit chat than have to sit there thinking of the right words to say to reassure his CSI that stumbling over your girlfriend's body was not such a big deal.

'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked suddenly, not a question I was expecting. Surely this qualified as showing an interest in the actual event rather than tip toeing around blindly like an intoxicated ballerina.

'Didn't tell you what?' I said stupidly, like I could convince him that I had no idea what he was talking about.

'I didn't know you were seeing anyone.'

Seeing anyone? I wasn't just seeing her. I was her life and she was mine. We worshipped each other and somehow with our demanding jobs we still managed to catch an hour or two together everyday. She was perfect, her beautiful blond hair and that smile that just melted my heart every time I saw it. How can anyone understand how this feels?

'I want to go home,' I said, flatly trying to shake the thoughts from my mind perhaps in some vain attempt to convince myself that my relationship hadn't been that great. That she wasn't the best thing that had ever happened to me.

'O.k., I'll go get the doctor.' Grissom stood and looked at me, patronisingly sympathetic. Or perhaps I was just being over sensitive.

As the door quietly clicked shut behind him, I let myself go. Tears running down my face so fast it was a minute or two before I realised I was even crying. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sobs so no one would hear. This was my pain. I didn't want anyone else pretending to know what I was going through. Pretending to care.

'Baby, do you want a coffee?' her voice floated acrossher kitchen with the graceful beauty that I loved about her.

'Like you have to ask!' I called back sarcastically as I threw on my t-shirt and jogged down the stairs.

I placed a long kiss on her lips as she turned to me with the coffee. She giggled and pulled away.

'Careful I might spill it!' she said with a smile, that smile.

I took the cup from her and took a sip, not taking my eyes away from her. I couldn't believe that I had something this perfect.

'Do you really have to go?' she asked although she already knew the answer.

'Yes, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you I promise,' I said, looking at my watch. I was already running late.

I took another gulp of my drink and put the mug on the kitchen counter. I grabbed my jacket where it was lying discarded from the end of our date. Guess I took it off in a bit of a hurry (!)I took her face in my hands and kissed her again.

'I'll see you soon,'

'I love you,' she said, her smile softening coyly.

'I love you too,' I said and looked at her, not wanting to leave her.

'Will you go already!' she snapped playfully. 'I have a life too ya know!' and pushed me towards the door.

'He wants to know if he can go home, I' not sure it's a good idea,' Grissoms voice pulled me out of my memory and I began swiping at the tears with my hand, trying to disguise my moment of weakness.

Grissom re-entered the room with a woman. I swear my heart stopped for a moment. The hair, the eyes. It was too close to home. I pretended to find a sudden overwhelming interest in the pattern on the floor so I didn't have to look at her.

'Nice to have you back with us Mr Sanders. My name's Dr Monroe.' She said gently.

I began to laugh hysterically. Dr Monroe. A woman with blonde hair called Dr Monroe. I clamped a hand over my mouth so as not to make any noise but my shoulders continued to shake. I didn't understand why I was laughing so much. It wasn't even one of my better jokes.

'Greg,' Grissom said cautiously like I was some kind of mental patient who might suddenly fly out of my bed and murder the entire hospital ward. I took a deep breath.

'I'm sorry,' I said, trying to suppress a smile. She's going to laugh when I tell her about this, I thought, and instantly the smile was wiped from my face. I wasn't going to tell her anything. She wasn't going to hear my jokes anymore.

'Mr Grissom tells me you want to go home,' the doctor was saying.

'It's not a case of wanting to,' I said bitterly. 'I am going home.'

'I'd really like to assess you first,'

'What for?' I shot back; my manners seemed to have taken a vacation.

'Just to make sure you're ready,'

I laughed rebelliously and threw back the covers on my bed, determined that I was walking out of there with or without permission. That was until I realised I probably couldn't walk out of there in a hospital gown.

'Where are my clothes?'

A/N - there you go. hope it's not losing anything from the first chapter. i realise the pace of this is really slow but i'm doing that on purpose to give the feeling that Greg is having to take it one step at a time and keeps getting distracted. Hope its working. Thanks to my three reviewers so far. I was very shocked to get three reviews when i only posted yesterday. So thank you and it's your fault I have continued to write this stuff (only joking).