Chapter Six: Helping Hand

At first, all he knew was the pain. He wasn't aware of his surroundings, and he didn't know what had happened. But the ache that had worked its way through his body told him that it wasn't anything good.

It took a few moments for him to sort things out in his head. He was able to push back the pain long enough to clue into his surroundings. Someone was calling his name…Sara, it was Sara calling his name, yeah…that was her. He blinked a few times, squinting against the light that was shining down on him.

In the end he figured it was easier to just keep his eyes closed. He couldn't see anything anyways, and at the moment, it was hard to breath. There was so much dust in the air.

"Can you hear me?"

Sara's voice was loud, edgy even; Greg could tell she was on the verge of panicking. He muttered a weak response, not even sure if she heard him or not, but he wasn't going to try to talk any louder. Even that little bit hurt, plain and simple.

He laid there for a moment, trying to shake off the unwanted feeling, before calling out again. In his mind, Greg knew that trying to get up wasn't the smartest of ideas yet, but he wasn't thinking logically. All he could think about was the case; it was all he knew for certain at the present time. Laying her forever wasn't an option.

He must have drifted off, because next he felt a warm hand on his forehead, and he flinched as the fingers pressed into the cut that ran the length of his forehead. Blinking warily he glanced around, somewhat surprised to see several people moving around him.

The man right above him was dressed in white, and was wearing gloves. He was leaning over him now, talking to him. At first he couldn't make out what he was saying, but caught it the second time around.

"Tell us…name?"

"Greg," he breathed quietly, taking a few small breaths before talking again. "Greg Sanders."

The man above him nodded, raising his head up to look at the two others. "Can we get these boards off of him please?" He turned to look back down at him.

"Okay Mr. Sanders," his voice loud, a little to loud for Greg's taste, as it was doing nothing for his current headache, but he supposed it was something they were used to. Greg had tried to look to see what exactly he was pulling out of the bag he had set down just above his head, but to no avail.

He flinched again as the medic turned his attention back to the cut on his forehead, reaching down with one hand to feel his pulse. "Can you tell me how old you are?"

Greg swallowed as he thought the question over. This one wasn't as easy to answer as the first one had, proving that he still wasn't completely coherent. "Twenty-seven," he finally managed, after several minutes of thinking.

As the first medic worked on him, Greg noticed that the boards were slowly being lifted off him. They weren't heavy, so in everything it didn't make too much of a difference. "Can you tell me where you hurt?"

Greg blinked, sighing softly, still pulling in small fitful breaths. He wanted to laugh at the question, but he wasn't willing to try, afraid of how much it would hurt. "Everywhere?" he suggested, unable to stop the small chuckle from escaping.

The medic laughed as well, not entirely surprised by the question. "Okay, how about where you hurt the most?"

If it was possible, this question was even harder to answer than the last. His entire body felt as though it was on fire, but he wasn't sure if anything hurt more than the rest. Finally he decided it was his head that hurt the worst, simply due to the fact he couldn't think straight.

He voiced that concern to the medic as well, who in turn laughed harder, pulling back for a moment. "I think you're going to be just fine," he told him. "We're going to help you up to a sitting position now, make sure you can handle that first before we try and walk you out of here."

The medic waited a few more minutes while Greg tried to slow his breathing. He knew what it was as well; he remembered the feeling from when he Sara had fallen over the cliff into the river. He wouldn't be surprised if his old injuries hadn't completely healed yet.

The medic was in front of him then, lacing one hand around his arm, the other around his upper back. Another man repeated the gesture on his other side and on the count of three they eased in him to a sitting position.

Greg had to admit that even though the procedure hurt, he certainly felt a lot better sitting now. He was more aware of his surroundings, as well as the factor of pain, but it was a lot easier to breathe once sitting than it had been. They let him rest for a period of ten minutes before bringing him all the way to his feet. Walking out of there was slow and painful, Greg wincing with each and every step, grateful as the cool night air greeted him.

They sat him down in the grass in front of the house. Greg was surprised by all the action going on. Before it had only been him and Sara, as well as the officer who had remained outside. Now he could easily see Brass as well as Grissom, talking to the officer, and Sara not too far away, talking with Nick and Warrick. They all glanced his way as they sat him down, their expressions a cross between relief and worry.

The medics were still talking to him, but he barely heard what they said as they left his side. It didn't take long for the others to join him, all them slowly making their way over once assured that the medics were done working on him.

Sara, still shaken by the entire event, sat down next to him, fighting down the overwhelming urge to hug him in pure relief, but knowing that it would only serve to hurt him even more. The others just stood about him, unsure of what to say or do. Unable to stand the silence any longer, Greg gave everyone a reassuring grin.

"Hey guys," his voice was still quiet, his arms wrapped around his chest as he worked on balancing breathing and talking at the same time. "I feel so special; you all came down to check on me."

"Of course Greg," Catherine rolled her eyes. "What else would we do, celebrate?"

"I figured Nick more in likely would yeah," Greg taunted, looking up at him.

Nick shrugged, laughing. "I wanted to, but Catherine said I couldn't, she's a spoil sport," his gaze flicked over to Catherine as he imitated his best pouting face, unable to keep it on for very long.

"We were all worried about you," Sara stated next to him. "Well…I was more than worried, everyone said I was overreacting, and they were right."

"I'm okay," he winced as he coughed, shaking his head. "Okay, maybe not, but I'm getting there. I've certainly have had better times, but things could be worse."

Everyone nodded in quiet agreement, looking up as the medic made his way back over. "We're going to take Mr. Sanders to the hospital, have him looked over one final time, and more likely have him stay the night, just to make sure nothing else is going on that we can't see. Other than that, there's no reason why he shouldn't be able to go home in the morning."

Grissom nodded, talking for the first time, "Catherine, you want to follow him, give him a ride home if he needs one tonight?"

Catherine nodded without hesitation, already heading towards her own car as the medic helped Greg to his feet, slowly walking him towards the ambulance. Sara would have jumped at the first chance of going with him, but she knew that she other manners to attend to, mainly concerning Ecklie. Somehow, she felt as if it wasn't going to be very good either.

TBC