So far so good, hopefully we're not too confusing so far. Thanks for all the comments, I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it. A quick second chapter. Thanks to Jenny and Kegel for help with this :)

Chapter Two: False Conclusions

What was it with hospitals and the color white? Was it supposed to be calming? Greg found it more irritating than anything else. His fingers twisted subconsciously in the sheets below him, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. It had been nearly an hour since he was first brought in. And more than ever he wanted to get out of there.

Greg had only spent a handful of minutes unconscious, coming to very quickly when the others were moving around him. He spent the entire car ride trying to convince Sara that he didn't need to come here. All he wanted was answers…answers they had all been reluctant to give.

At first he was terrified. Now he was just irritated. He let out a soft chuckle, hanging his head as he thought it over. He was still scared, confused mostly. He could imagine the others out in the hallway, laughing quietly at their well played joke. It was a joke…

Greg reminded himself of that one last time as the doctor came back into the room, pen in one hand, a pad in the other. He was barely able to bite back the groan that threatened to pass forth from his lips. More questions…why more questions? He had already answered half a million. Plus the fact he had also gone through every medical procedure possible. Everything from blood pressure to reflexes had been tested. Greg was sick and tired of being prodded and poked.

The doctor was hardly paying attention to him now, seemingly lost in his own world as he worked on filling the chart out. Greg wondered briefly what the man would say, wondering if the others had been able to get him to play along as well. At the moment he was still unsure of what he had done to deserve such treatment.

Sure, he had pulled his fair share of jokes, and pranks, paybacks and blackmail. Nothing illegal of course and certainly nothing that was against lab policy. It was simple things, such as switching locks on the lockers, when there were people around who were careless enough to leave them just lying around of course. Another time he had effectively switched the sugar with the salt. An old trick, but priceless in the end.

Greg knew just how far he could go before he crossed the line. It was something he never did either. He enjoyed bringing laughter into lab, at the expense of others of course. Greg knew also that they others always tried to pay him back in one way or another. So far he had been able to side-step all of them, or at least most of them.

As far as he was concerned, this was just a well played joke. It would have been Nick that slipped something into his coffee. The Texan, after all, had been the one to make the pot, had been the one to pour him a cup. Greg had been busy at that time, and had taken him up on the offer.

That alone would make sense. Because although Nick had taken a cup himself, he hadn't taken a drink there. Instead he had left the room. Plus the simple fact with Grissom being gone…

Grissom was the only one out of the group that wouldn't have gone along willingly with the plan. Well…Ecklie too, he was the only one Greg was having a hard time coming up with an explanation for. Grissom was the easy one; he had some coffee as well. Whatever had been slipped in the coffee must have caused him to pass out as well. Who knew then what anyone did with the man.

The problem with sedatives was the fact it carried a wide range of side effects. One of them being hallucinations. He wasn't aware of when he passed out, but it would explain why he had fantasized his own death, especially after taking into account their victim's COD was a bullet to the chest. His subconscious mind would have picked that up easily enough.

However, there was no real way that the others could have known what happened. Greg knew that any joke they pulled, however well preformed, would be harmless in the end. Once he told them why he was anxious about the entire situation, they would finally confess to everything. Still, Greg had to admire their skill, the ability for all of them to keep straight faces. Everything was well played so far.

He was convinced, however, that he would not be paying this bill. There was no way Greg would be coughing up his own small paycheck for a prank. He barely got by on what he had now; of course he was also keeping up with rising cost of rent. His apartment was new, a larger one than his old place. The only stupid thing he had done was move into it a week after getting his new job, and conveniently his pay cut.

"Alright then," the doctor nodded to him, acknowledging him for the first time since entering the room. "I think we're done here, you can go ahead and get dressed."

Greg nodded monotonously, already pulling the hospital gown up and over his head. The cool air around him brushed his skin as he made his way over to the chair, where all his other clothes had been draped. Greg had protested the fact that he needn't change, that he didn't need to be checked out. But Sara and the others wouldn't have it any other way. And they were all here, or at least, out in the hall.

"How is he?"

It was Nick who asked this question, and Greg scoffed quietly as he stepped into his pants. At least he had made the effort to sound concerned. He could hear the doctor respond.

"Physically he's perfectly healthy…"

"What about mentally?" Warrick interjected.

Greg shook his head as he pulled on his shirt, listening intently for the answer. Exactly how long were they going to go on with this?

"Mentally can be anyone's guess," his doctor told them, his voice quiet. It occurred to Greg that no one wanted him to hear what he was saying, so Greg made his way closer to the door, determined not to be left out of anything.

"He shows no signs of trauma or shock, which are common physical triggers of memory loss. Emotional stress can sometimes cause people to block out certain events...is there any chance he's gone through a particularly traumatic experience within the last 24-48 hours?"

"Someone suspended him," Nick offered up, his voice tense.

Greg chuckled lightly, shaking his head. Everything was well thought out; he had to give the team some credit. He grew quiet again once the short argument had been stopped, listening once again.

"I would suggest lots of rest; just have him take it easy for a couple of days. If he hasn't improved by then, take him into a specialist. I have a list here of therapists you can take him to."

"I know someone," Sara countered coldly. Apparently she was still angry from Nick's accusation. Greg felt that then was the best time to make his appearance, as he finished lacing up the last of his shoes. With a calm, yet determined gaze he made his way out into the hall.

Sara had taken him home. At least that was what he had thought. When she turned left, instead of right at the last intersection, he began to wonder. Finally he asked where they were going.

She only eyed him suspiciously, turning up front shortly after. "Home."

"Home's the other way," Greg pointed out, frowning at her worried complexion. "Look Sara…I get it. I'll stop the jokes, I'll be more serious. You don't have to go through all this trouble. Personally, it's starting to freak me out. I've gone along with your little game long enough now."

"This isn't a game Greg," she snapped at him, biting her lip as she shifted in her seat. "At least not to me. If you find any of this humorous I will personally kill you. Then I'll have Nick help me hide your body."

Greg frowned at the statement, now feeling suddenly cold. If it wasn't a prank…then what did that leave? This honestly couldn't be real…was he dreaming then? Greg shook his head…of course he wasn't. This…all of this was too real to be a dream. Wasn't it?

Ten minutes later she had pulled to a stop in a driveway. It belonged to a white house, one-story, but nice enough, from an outwards appearance at least. A bay-window sat in front, overlooking a spacious yard, a well kept garden. Greg watched skeptically as Sara got out, frowning as she pulled his door open.

"Where are we?"

From the look she had given him he didn't need to guess twice. This must be his house. Greg was becoming more worried by the second as he walked up the hand-poured path to the door. Still he couldn't complain, if this indeed was his house, it was far better than his apartment, and the additional space was no issue either.

"I don't have keys," Greg remarked quietly when reaching the door, surprised as Sara huffed. What exactly did she expect of him?

"I do," she responded, pulling them out as she came to a stop. She inserted the key, pausing long enough to pull out the mail from the box on the wall before successfully opening the door.

The floor was wood, not the cheap imitation, but actual, real solid wood. He had to pause longingly and bend over to run his hand along it, just to admire it for a moment more. Greg felt guilty as he stepped side, feeling as though he should at least remove his shoes or something. But Sara was far ahead of him, standing near the counter as she sorted through the mail.

It made him frown. Was she supposed to be doing that? He could still read after all…but then again, considering the current situation he found himself in maybe it was better to let Sara go through it. He wandered past her, into the living room, pausing here to take his shoes off. The carpet was plush under his feet, clean…something he hadn't experienced in a long time.

There were matching couches and end-tables, decorated with matching dual lamps. They were both set on low, a dim golden light covering the area. The entertainment center, yes, an actual center, once again real wood, with working doors that actually closed.

He couldn't resist looking. A 52 inch screen. That was nice…Greg couldn't help but to crouch down, glancing in the compartment underneath. There wasn't any gaming system, and he frowned, wondering where his old stuff was. Surely he would have some here…

He opened a second door, quickly noting the dual DVD/Video Cassette player. A Phillips compact stereo system in the other cabinet. Movies in another. Where was the gaming system? There had to be one around here somewhere.

"What are you looking for?"

Greg glanced up quickly, resting on his knees now as he slowly closed the door. He considered asking her, but decided against. She looked angry enough already, there was no need to push it. "Nothing," he answered quietly. "Nothing at all…"

"Are you going to be okay here by yourself?"

Greg nodded, moving to his feet now, his hands sliding into his pockets. "Yeah…"

"I need to be at work, we still have an active case going on. Take some Excedrin and try to get some sleep. If you need me just call my cell phone, I'll have it on the rest of the night."

Greg nodded again, watching her leave, clearing his throat quickly. "Um…where do I sleep?"

This time the look was one of surprise, but she pointed down the hall anyways. "All the way down, to your right."

He nodded his thanks, but he could see that Sara was clearly worried. It only generated more fear and alarm in him. If she was worried, that would give him a clear reason to be terrified.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"When I wake up," he stated, trying to sound confident, "it'll all be a dream."

"I hope so," she said quietly. "Because this is really starting to scare me."

She had taken the words straight out of his mouth.

TBC