A/N: So...apologies for the cliffie last time (I know, I know, I'm evil). Anyway, because everyone reviewed so promptly (and violently, I might add), and since this week has not killed me, I decided to post the next chapter as a little treat. Um...not too much to say...italics in the chapter indicate thoughts/dreams. Usual disclaimer applies...read on!

Chapter Nine

"Oh, we're halfway there
Oh-oh, livin' on a prayer"

Nick's car pulled into the parking lot by the morgue entrance with an earsplitting squeal, the blue and red lights from the ambulance parked outside flashing in his eyes. He jumped out of the car and ran towards the door just in time to see the paramedics rushing Greg out of the morgue.

One paramedic stopped him. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't go any further."

"But, Greg…" stammered Nick, eyes wide with fright as the EMTs loaded Greg onto the ambulance.

Greg's body was still, so still…not even shaking, just…still. Nick looked around wildly and saw Doc Robbins standing just inside the doorway. "Doc, what the hell happened?" shouted Nick, running over to him.

Doc Robbins sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Greg had a seizure of some sorts and stopped breathing," he said in an odd, detached voice. "I managed to get him breathing again with CPR, but he's comatose at the moment and probably will remain that was until he dies."

"But…but I got the antidote," protested Nick weakly, his head spinning.

Doc Robbins looked up, eyes suddenly clear. "Well then, what are you waiting for!" he exclaimed. "Give it to the paramedics so they can administer it to him."

Nick quickly grabbed the arm of one of the EMTs. "Uh…Greg…he was poisoned," said Nick, mind still reeling. "This is the antidote."

The paramedic nodded and took the antidote from him, yelling something to another paramedic. Nick wasn't listening anymore; he stared at Greg, at his paper white skin and delicate features. He had never realized before how fragile Greg was. "Oh, God," he whispered, almost sobbing.

He heard Grissom come up behind him, having jut arrived himself. He felt the older man grip his shoulder and call to the paramedics, "Look, I want Nick to go with him."

The EMT frowned deeply. "I'm sorry, sir, but his condition is very unstable. I don't know if—"

"It's not up for debate," interrupted Grissom from behind Nick, his blue eyes hard. "The victim is part of an active investigation. One of the CSIs has to be present to document everything."

"Very well," agreed the paramedic reluctantly, eyeing Nick warily. "But if he interferes with treatment, he will have to be removed."

Grissom nodded curtly and turned to Nick, eyes searching his. "Go with him, Nicky," he said quietly. "Make sure he's alright."

"Griss, look at him," said Nick weakly, eyes welling with tears. "He looks like he's already dead."

"Well, he's not," said Grissom briskly, fixing Nick with a steely gaze. His face softened and he said gently, "He needs you now more than he ever has before and you have to be there for him when he wakes up."

Nick just blinked at him, all the desperation and helplessness of the past week pouring out in a single moment. "What is he never wakes up?"

"He will," said Grissom firmly, no doubt in his voice.

Nodding slowly, Nick boarded the ambulance and sat down next to Greg, holding his hand as if he'd never let go.

Doc Robbins limped up to stand next to Grissom, both watching as the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot. "Will he be alright?" asked Al softly, more to himself than Grissom.

Grissom sighed heavily and looked at Al, wondering if he was talking about Greg or Nick. "He has to be," he whispered. "He has to be."

The incessant beeping was beginning to get to Nick. What was worse, every machine that Greg was hooked up to seemed to be beeping in different rhythms, and it was driving Nick up a wall.

He looked at Greg and fought the urge to look away again. Greg's pale skin looked worse under the harsh fluorescent lights. His chest rose and fell slowly, far too slowly and shallowly to reassure Nick. And he looked so small. Covered in tubes that led to all the various machines, he looked almost child-like. Nick gripped his hand tighter and smoothed a lock of hair from his face, pausing to trace Greg's feature with a finger, trying to memorize every inch of him.

A knock sounded on the door and Grissom walked in. He handed Nick a cup of coffee. "How is he?" asked Grissom quietly.

Rubbing his eyes wearily, Nick sighed. "No change." He took the coffee from Grissom and sipped it gratefully. "Thanks."

They waited in comfortable silence for a few moments until Grissom said quietly, "It's weird seeing him like this. Greg, I mean."

Nick glanced up at him and smiled slightly. "I know what you mean. I'm so used to him bouncing off the walls that seeing him like this…"

He trailed off and Grissom nodded in agreement. He looked at Nick and wondered aloud. "I wonder what it's like…" before trailing off and blushing.

Nick looked at him and asked, "What?"

Grissom hid a grin and said slowly, "I was going to ask what it's like to live with him, but I realized I might not want to know the answer."

Laughing aloud, Nick rolled his eyes. "Greg can be as much of a pain in the ass at home as he is at work." His affectionate smiled turned to a more contemplative one. "But he's always conscious of me and what I need. He listens to his music on his headphones instead of the stereo, he always makes time for me no matter what's going on in his life, and he understands just snuggling at the end of a hard day."

"He's a good guy," said Grissom gently. "He always has been. And he makes you happy, I can tell."

Nick grinned slowly to himself. "Yeah, he does," he said, looking loving at Greg. "He really does." Looking up at Grissom, Nick smiled wryly and said, "I told him if he made it through this, we'd get married."

Grissom raised his eyebrows in surprise and grinned at Nick. "Wow, good for you," he said, still smiling. "I hope we're all invited."

Looking up at him with a sad look in his eyes, Nick wondered aloud, "Will he live to see our wedding day?"

"What do you think?" asked Grissom quietly. "What does your heart and your gut tell you? Mine tells me that you and Greg have many, many happy years ahead of you."

Nick smiled slowly, a glint of hope shining in his eyes. "I think I can see that," he said softly. "I really think I can."

"Then hold onto that," said Grissom firmly, squeezing Nick's shoulder. "Hold onto that with everything you have."

They remained like that in silence for a minute until the moment was broken by a nurse. "Oh, excuse me," she said, peering over her glasses at Grissom and Nick. "Hospital visiting hours are over. You're going to have to leave."

Nick opened his mouth to protest but Grissom cut him off smoothly. "Ma'am, I'm Gil Grissom. I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

The nurse blinked owlishly at him. "That's nice, Mr. Grissom, but rules are rules. You'll have to leave."

Once again, Nick started to protest, and once again, Grissom cut him off, this time with a fiercely whispered, "I'll take care of it."

He walked over to the nurse, taking her arm and steering her out of the room. "Ma'am, this is part of a homicide investigation. I'm going to need to speak to the doctor in charge of Mr. Sanders' case…"

The door shut behind them and Nick turned back to Greg, blinking tiredly. He smiled wanly at the younger man, taking his hand again. "Hey, Greg, it's me," he whispered gently, stroking Greg's cheek with his thumb. "I hope you can hear me…listen, you need to get better, alright? You need to get better and wake up soon cuz we're going to get married, remember? You and me in Massachusetts or something…together, forever."

He sighed and squeezed Greg's hand. "I wish I could crawl into bed with you right now and just hold you til I fall asleep. But I can't because of all these tubes." He fell silent and stared at Greg as if willing him to open his eyes, those dark chocolate eyes and just look at him, one more time.

"I should have been there," he said suddenly. "I should have been there with you when you stopped breathing, when you almost died. Maybe if I had been there, you wouldn't be like this." He paused before whispering brokenly, "Maybe I would've been able to tell you I love you one last time."

Tears overflowed from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto their intertwined hands as he sobbed quietly. After a few minutes, he stopped, taking a ragged breath and wiping his eyes half-heartedly. He looked down at Greg again and whispered, "Sleep well, sweetheart. But wake up soon. Please. For me."

Then he fell asleep as well, still holding Greg's hand tightly in his own.

Greg felt trapped in a world of white light. He couldn't see anything but white light, surrounding him, filling him. He tried to speak, but no words came out.

The white was soothing, gentle. It had taken away his pain, pain that had been so intense, he thought he was dying. He wondered vaguely if he was dead, and if this was Heaven. If it was, he decided, it wasn't so bad, simply suspended in white space.

He heard muffled voices echoing as if they came from far away, but nothing distinctive, the volume going in and out like a bad radio station. He tuned them out, simply letting the light fill him completely.

Then he heard crying, soft sobs that broke his heart and somehow, somehow seemed so familiar to him, as if he knew the person crying. An abstract thought floated into his head—a name, Nick.

Suddenly, he was alert, heart pounding. Nicky. Nicky was crying. He tried desperately to call out to him, to tell him to stop crying, but he couldn't. He struggled against the light, trying desperately to somehow break out of the white to where Nick was, to hold him, to soothe him.

He cried out silently as the pain came back and engulfed him, changing his world of white to a raging red inferno. He tried weakly once more to cry out to Nick, and then the pain overwhelmed him and everything faded to black.

Grissom strode down the hallway of the hospital toward Greg's room, muttering sullenly to himself about the stupid nurse. He paused at the door to Greg's room and looked in. Nick was asleep, clutching Greg's hand.

Hiding a sad smile, Grissom stepped away from the door. Nick and Greg were so perfect together…it still surprised him that no one had figured it out sooner.

He started pacing in front of Greg's room, waiting for the doctor to show up. He had to know what Greg's chances were. He had to know if he would survive, because Grissom didn't think Nick would make it if Greg didn't.

The doctor walked up briskly to Grissom, offering him his hand. "Mr. Grissom, I'm Doctor Skura, the primary doctor on Greg's case. I heard you wanted to see me?"

Grissom shook his hand. "Yes, thanks for coming to see me. I wanted to know about Greg's condition."

Nodding once, the doctor pulled out Greg's chart. "When he was admitted yesterday, Mr. Sanders was suffering from the beginning stages of atrophy in his extremities, as well as complications from a weakened immune system and partially collapsed lung. His collapsed lung and weakened immune system stopped his heart when coupled with the grand mal seizure he had at the morgue, but was started with CPR from both the coroner and paramedics. The CPR caused slight fractures to his sternum and ribs, but those should heal on their own."

He paused before adding in more subdues tones, "When he was…well, dead for those few minutes, it caused a lack of oxygen flow to his brain. Brain damage, if any, won't be apparent until he wakes up…if he wakes up."

Sighing heavily, Grissom turned back to the window, watching Nick and Greg sleep. "What'll happen to him?" he asked aloud.

"Mr. Grissom…there's no way to tell," said the doctor gently. "He could linger in the coma for years. He could die peacefully in his sleep tonight. He could up with the mental capacity of a five-year-old."

"Is it…is it at all possible that he could wake up and be fine?" asked Grissom hesitantly, not allowing himself to hope.

Dr. Skura paused before sighing deeply. "There is a glimmer of a possibility, the slightest chance. At this point…" He trailed off and sighed again. "At this point, he's pretty much living on a prayer."

Grissom nodded slowly, a glint in his normally stoic blue eyes. "If there's any hope, then that's all we need. Greg will make it."

"Mr. Grissom, you're a scientist!" protested the doctor, a frown furrowing his brow. "You of all people know you have to be reasonable."

Grissom just raised an eyebrow. "'Le Coeur a ses raisons que raison ne connais pas,'" he quoted. "'The heart has its reason whereof reason knows nothing.' Pascal—French Philosopher." He paused before saying quietly, "The greatest variable every scientist has to remember is the human heart."

The doctor bowed his head in acceptance and asked quietly, "Do you want me to tell your CSI in there the news?"

Looking at Nick, Grissom shook his head. "No, let me tell him. It's my responsibility to him."

Dr. Skura nodded once before turning to leave. He paused. "Mr. Grissom…I hope Greg does get better. For your sake."

Grissom nodded once and the doctor left. He turned back to watch Nick and Greg. His heart ached for Nick. He couldn't imagine Nicky sitting next to a comatose Greg for the rest of his years. He also couldn't imagine Greg waking up and not being the smart, sarcastic man that everyone had grown to love. Above all, he wouldn't allow himself to imagine attending the funeral of the youngest member of his team. That was one option he refused to consider.

No, Greg had to get better. It was the only feasible option. And looking in at Nick and Greg, he could almost believe that it would happen, because a love that strong could conquer anything.