Sorry for the long updates. Taking on a second job is mostly to blame. Working a full time job and a part time job takes away most my writing time, so updates will come slower. I certainly am trying though :P
Chapter Twelve: Fading Realities
He had been in the field for just over one year, not long enough by anyone's standards to say he was experienced. But even he knew that this was not a good situation to be in. With the pounding in his head steadily increasing he let out a groan, forcing his eyes open slowly. Lying on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling told him one thing. He was alive.
The amount of pain that shot through his body told him he was lucky to be even that. Blinking his eyes several times he let out a soft cry as he lifted his head, eyes searching around in the darkness, trying to figure out just exactly where he was at. It was hard to focus, hard to see, shapes blurring before him as he gave into the rising pain, letting his head fall back against the pillow.
The sudden realization struck him then. He was in bed, not a place he had been before. Lowering his hand he let out a sharp gasp as his wandering fingers came into contact with the open wound, the warm sticky fluid coating the palm of his hand. Sara had shot him.
Not only had she shot him, she had just left him here, even taking the time to get him into bed. Of course, why would she call for help when she had been the cause of the incident? Blurry eyes tried to focus on the bedside clock, the red glowing numbers merging into one solid blob.
It was crazy…the shooting had been an accident. After all Sara's full intention had been to shoot herself, not Greg. His interference is where things had gone wrong. Even still, Sara should know that by just leaving him here, his death would become her murder, despite the events that had happened before.
Maybe though, just maybe she was still here, still close. Perhaps she had even called for help, and had moved him to the bed for his own comfort. She honestly wouldn't leave him here, would she? With straining effort he raised his head, his eyes searching the darkness around him as he groggily called out her name, his voice barely above a whisper.
It led him into a coughing fit, and once that had died down he tried again, the words burning in his throat as he voiced echoed in the empty room. It was the only sound in the house aside from the quiet whisper of the ceiling fan in the adjacent room. So…Sara had truly left him here.
He let out a groan, hand pressing against his still bleeding wound. He needed help, and he couldn't just wait till someone found him. By then it would be too late…far too late to do anything. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up, letting his legs dangle over the side of the bed. His cell phone was just on the other side of the room, sitting on the dresser. He could see it from here, even through the fuzzy achiness that swarmed his entire body. But seeing it was one thing, getting to it, a completely different matter.
With a cry as the sharp pain shot through his body Greg pushed himself to his feet, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. He was leaning against it heavily, stumbling in small steps towards his goal. Several times he had to pause, long enough to gain his breath, and fight the building pain. The entire process was one he had to repeat after only a few short steps, forehead resting against the cool wall.
He had it in one more try, knees buckling under him as his fingers flimsily grasped the phone, pulling it down with him. Biting his lip he forced down a scream, bloody fingers already fumbling with the device in order to open it. He couldn't remember dialing the numbers, or hitting the send button, but he did remember the floor rushing up at him as the room continued to spin.
It was the sensation of moving that first woke him. Not so much the lights, or the surrounding voices, but everything else around him. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know where he was. The steady beeping of the heart monitor, the strong smell of sanitizer and clean linen, and the foggy drug-induced state was enough to give it away.
But the drugs were wearing off, and he let out a quiet groan as wandering hands came into contact with his wounds. The sharp pain that followed told him that they were more worn off than he had first thought. The second realization was a split second sensation of feeling nauseous before actually becoming sick.
Anesthesia never had sat well with his body. But he was deeply thankful for its purpose, knowing that the pain he was in now was more in likely a preview of what it could have been. He felt the hands come up to rest on his forehead, pressing his head back into the pillow as the shadows danced across his face.
"Can you hear me Mr. Sanders?"
With a dull nod Greg confirmed her suspicion, opening his eyes to gaze at her through a dazed fog.
"There's been an accident," the nurse explained with a warm smile, as though it was something to be thankful for. "We're going to get a morphine drip going, and after you get some rest you can have visitors."
He let out a small whimper, closing his eyes as he turned his head away. Visitors were the last thing he wanted. Not only did he not want anyone to see him like this, but he didn't want to explain all that had happened. And even if he did, would they believe him? Sara's word, after all, was far more superior than his. This was something he had found out the hard way. And even more so, what would Nick do upon finding out that Greg blamed Sara for this mess?
He knew that Sara had had bouts of depressive anger before. His therapist had told him she one was suicidal, and perhaps still was. Her actions of last night confirmed that, and though he was grateful for stopping her from her intentions, he was deeply regretting the outcome.
Time passed endlessly, Greg continually faded in and out of reality, conscious for only moments at one period of time, and coherent for only a fraction of that time. The pain came and went as well, making him wonder if the morphine was actually working, but it never lasted long enough for him to query someone on the subject.
It was in the later hours when he stirred, a stifled groan working its way out when a hand touched his gingerly, a soft voice calling his name. He worked his eyes open, waiting a moment for the room to stop swaying, his vision clearing. He was surprised to see Sara sitting there, one arm propped up on his bed, the other holding his hand tenderly. Her eyes were red, puffy from both tears and simple exhaustion.
"Hey," she smiled, her voice soft as she watched him. "It's about time you woke up."
Her tone was light, teasingly as she squeezed his hand but Greg turned away, not even giving her a visual response. Sara was the last person he wanted to see, and frankly the last person he expected to see. How dare she show up after all that had just transpired, exactly what was she thinking?
Here she was, pretending that nothing had happened, as if everything was going to be okay. He would be physically, but emotionally was a different story. If he got out of here…when he got out of here there was no doubt in his mind that he wasn't going to stay with her any longer. Greg would have to find his own place, and by Nick's choice words earlier, a new job as well. That he could handle…
He swallowed painfully, fighting down the rising lump in his throat. For some sudden reason he felt like crying, eyes pressed shut tightly as he worked over the varied emotions running through his very soul. He could handle being alone, but it wasn't something he wanted. At the same time, what other choice did he have? He couldn't live under Sara's domineering word, and at the same time skirt around Nick's watchful eye. There was once a time when they were all friends, Greg could sense that, and to know that it would never be there again was tearing him apart.
Greg had always been social; he yearned for the activity, the contact with others almost constantly. Paranoia always struck him when he found out that he would be alone for long periods of time. He wasn't needy, or dependent on anyone, but he preferred something other than solitude on a regular basis.
Sara being here now, however, didn't change things for the better. He would assume at the very least that she would have left, or in a better manner, turned herself in. Maybe she had, and perhaps Nick had waved the charges. The Texan after all seemed willing to do almost anything for her.
He could feel her hands rubbing his arm, working their way up to his shoulder, coming to a rest on his forehead. She had called his name a few more times, but grew silent soon afterwards, either knowing he wasn't up to talking, or assuming he had fallen asleep once more. Whatever the cause Greg silently hoped she would leave. He hated lying, hated pretending, and even if it was or his best interest it still didn't make it right.
It felt like hours, but in reality it was only a handful of minutes before the nurse called her away. Sara had given his arm one last squeeze before moving to her feet, padding quietly out into the hall. Greg watched through cracked eyes as she disappeared from view, letting out a silent breath of air. Visiting hours were over for now. All he had to worry about was tomorrow. He let out a groan, turning his head upward to stare at the ceiling.
Then again he could always tell the nurse he wasn't up to visitors, which wouldn't exactly be a lie. The only way the team would be able to seem him then was to discuss the case, to pull his statement. Greg knew he didn't have to answer any personal questions; a simple short answer would suffice just as well.
"I didn't think you were asleep."
Greg blinked heavily, raising his head to see the brunette walking back in. "I thought visiting hours were over," he rasped quietly, grimacing at the burn in his throat.
"They are," she smiled, sliding back into the chair next to his bed. "I simply told the doctor that we were engaged."
There was a smile on her face, but it was pure disgust that was running through his body. Apparently Sara had not only the upper hand at work and in their household; she now decided how they were going to live the rest of their lives as well. "Why?"
It was the question that was burning on his lips, and even still Sara seemed shocked he even had to ask. She gave short shrug of her shoulders before continuing with a response. "I thought you would like the company," she stated, "Considering everything that just happened, I thought it would be better if you didn't wake up alone."
He wanted to laugh, but the pain chose otherwise. Instead he just shook his head, eyes closing as turned away with a small mumble, "I don't want to talk."
"You don't have to," Sara's response was quick, but fully sincere, as though she had expected as much. "You can just listen."
He had wanted to argue, but was already feeling drowsy, his eyes studying the attached tubes and monitors with vague interest as he tried to distract himself. Greg had to wonder if she would even listen if he told he didn't want that either.
"You're lucky to be alive," she started out, reaching for his hand. She seemed stunned as he pulled away, her voice catching in her throat as she continued. "We thought we were going to lose you there for a few minutes."
"Why? Wasn't that your intention?" Greg asked bitterly, fighting to talk as he yawned. Even being up for the few minutes had drained him, but he couldn't tell if it was due to his weakened condition, or if the pain medication was the culprit itself.
"Excuse me?" Sara blinked, the tone of her voice changing. It was obvious she had heard his statement, but either didn't understand it, or hadn't wanted to hear it. Greg just shook his head as he closed his eyes, feigning sleep.
"You were…you were touch and go during surgery, no one could really tell us what was going on. You though, if you hadn't texted the license number of that vehicle, we probably would have never found out who was responsible for doing this to you. I got there as they were leaving, I couldn't see anything, and I was afraid I was too late to help you."
He couldn't resist opening an eye at that comment, wondering if she was simply mad or incredibly brilliant. Had she simply schemed up a plan to cover for her own fault, or had her actions forced her into believing things that weren't true?
"Grissom thinks they're connected to the first murder, he and Brass are trying to tie the loose ends now."
"Grissom?" Greg wondered, clearing his throat painfully as he shook his head. Now who exactly was the crazy one now?
Sara nodded quietly, watching him with a concerned expression. "Are you okay?" she wondered, reaching over to touch his face. Greg turned away from her touch at first, but after a second attempt finally gave in, too weary to try and fight anything.
"Grissom's dead," Greg rasped quietly, blinking several times in order to clear his blurred vision.
"What?" Sara was shaking her head, worry plastered amongst her face. "Why would you say something like that?"
"Grissom's dead," he repeated sternly, fighting to remember all that he had been told the past few weeks. "He's dead and you…you shot me…"
It was here he faltered, blinking several times as the dull realization hit him on how ridiculous all this did sound. Sara was still sitting quietly next to his bedside, watching him worriedly.
"Greg…I'm going to get the doctor alright? Just relax, try to get some rest. They said you had a concussion, I think something more…something might be going on…"
She was fumbling over her words, obviously shaken by all that had happened and was moving to her feet when Greg reached out for her. He let out a hiss of pain as his body protested, and it was enough to stop Sara in her tracks, the brunette already turning around to tend to him.
"What's happened?" he breathed quietly, his fingers wrapping around her sleeve. "Tell me what's going on."
"Greg…I don't know…" she whispered quietly, wrapping her fingers around his hand shakily. "I've never seen you like this…it's scaring me."
"I don't understand…" he whispered, falling back into the sheets heavily. Sara's hands tried to stop him but he was already down, taking in a few deep breaths to help steady himself. "It doesn't make sense…"
Sara sat down with him, holding his hand firmly in hers as she watched him. "Maybe you need some rest," she voiced softly, swallowing.
"You were there with me," Greg shook his head, "Just last night…"
"You were here last night," Sara cut him off. "You've been in surgery most of the day. Don't you remember what happened?"
He shook his head slowly, confusion overwhelming him as he struggled to stay awake. Sara could see this, and his suspicions were confirmed when she pressed him down into the sheets, urging him to get some rest. He tried to protest, but Sara simply shook her head.
"No Greg…sleep. We'll talk later…I promise."
She said the last words with care and for the first time Greg hadn't wanted to see her go. He felt a growing need to stay with her, but watched with sadden eyes as she stepped hastily out into the hall. Obviously she was affected by everything just as much as he was, but the true wonder was what was truly happening?
It wasn't something he could ponder for long, already being whisked away into a fading darkness, afraid to fall asleep, mostly because he was afraid of what he would find upon waking.
TBC