Author's Note: OK, I know it's been nearly a week since my last update. The good news is, I'm almost done. Sorry you had to wait so long. Will have the next chapter up ASAP. Promise. :o). Thanks for your patience, and for sticking with this story.
"Take a deep breath."
Greg obliged.
"Exhale."
Greg obeyed.
"How does that feel?"
"Harsh," Greg replied.
"Mm hm." The doctor nodded and withdrew the stethoscope.
Greg squinted at the bright light. "Could you turn off the fluorescents? They're giving me a headache."
The doctor paused, but moved towards the door and hit the lights, until only one of them was on. "Your cardiac exams came back normal. Rhythm is a little high, just south of Tachycardia, but that's not causing the chest pains. My guess is that this is probably costochondritis."
Greg cocked an eyebrow. "Gazoontite."
The doctor's lips twitched. "Have you been in any fights recently, or an accident that may have caused trauma to your chest?"
"Um..." Greg tried to think.
"Maybe excessive vomiting, coughing, or even laughing?"
"I don't laugh that often anymore," Greg replied.
"Have you inhaled anything that might be harmful to your lungs? Even cigarette smoke?"
Greg bit his lip. "Plaster dust."
"Ah," said the doctor. "That might be it."
"So what does that mean?"
The doctor smiled. "It means you'll be fine. Your costal cartilages are inflamed, but the swelling should go down. Just go easy on the breathing. It'll pass. But you do not look very good at all, and I'm worried about your unusually high heart rate. You're clammy and anxious... Maybe you should stay for a full physical. I feel like I'm missing something with you."
Greg was beyond nervous. His knees were bouncing up and down as he clenched and unclenched his fists. "Doc... what are the lasting adverse effects of longtime Valium abuse on the body?"
The doctor's eyebrows rose with interest. "I see..."
"What should I be worried about with the... you know... withdrawal symptoms?"
The doctor nodded. "Well, the withdrawal syndrome has been compared to symptoms of heroin and barbiturate withdrawal."
Greg's eyes watered as panic swelled in his chest. "Do you have anything that would help with... that?"
"My best suggestion is to wean off the drugs. Decrease the doses. It's the smoothest way to break dependence on benzodiazepines."
Greg shook his head and rubbed his arms, his stomach churning. "No, I've tried that, even five milligrams less my body freaks out. Tell me something else. Give me something else. Please."
"How long were you using the drug?" The doctor asked.
"Maybe three months."
The doctor let out a low whistle. "No, you can not just go cold turkey on this, Greg. Not if you've been using it for that long."
"Why not?" Greg asked. He flinched as a strange electric sensation tingled over his skin. He wondered if he was near an outlet. He was drenched in sweat. Was it dangerous for him to be sitting there?
The doctor sighed. "Greg, if you don't taper off the drug, you are in for serious life threatening withdrawal symptoms. What have you been experiencing?"
"Chills, fever, headache, nausea, photophobia, anxiety..."
"And when was your last dose?" The doctor asked.
"Dunno, maybe eighteen hours ago?" Greg guessed.
The doctor shook his head. "Eighteen hours and you're already experiencing these symptoms? If you don't take another dose in the next six hours, you're in for convulsions, tremors, maybe a coma, not to mention the severe dysphoria, catatonia, mania and psychosis! I am very glad you had these chest pains, Greg, because if you really intended on going through with this, it could have killed you."
Greg was startled, thoughts of electrocution far away from him as the fear engulfed him completely. "I thought I knew enough about this... but I didn't know all that."
The doctor chewed on his lip. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
"Wait," Greg called anxiously, as the doctor was about to leave. "You, um... took my blood, right?"
"That's right."
"Would you... do an HIV test for me?"
The doctor paused. He turned and gave Greg a serious look. "When were you exposed to the virus?"
"Maybe two weeks ago," said Greg.
"You know that the results may not be conclusive," said the doctor. "If it comes back negative, that may not mean you don't have it."
"I know," said Greg. "But just do it. It'll make me feel better, if only for a little bit. And if it does come back positive, then... Well, then I'll know. And it's better to know. Isn't it?"
The doctor gave him an apologetic smile and nodded. And without another word, he left, and Greg was alone in the dark, sitting on the exam table kicking his legs back and forth. He could feel the dysphoria creeping on the horizon. He had made a terrible mistake. The electric sensation on his skin was driving him insane and he wanted to rip out his hair. Taking a deep breath, which hurt his chest, he raked his hands into his hair and clenched them into fists. The urge to break down was overwhelming and his chest constricted as the tears spilled out of his eyes. He tried to control himself, but it was dark, and Nick wasn't there and he was scared.
Catatonia, mania, psychosis...
Greg was going crazy. After the doctor mentioned it, it all made sense. Nothing was right anymore. Nothing could be right, not ever. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to gain comfort from them.
He would never beat this. He wasn't strong enough. Why was he even trying?
"Excuse me, Doctor?" Nick called as he saw the man that had called Greg's name walking down the hall. The doctor stopped and Nick caught up with him. "My name is Nick Stokes, I brought in Greg Sanders?"
"Oh. Yes, of course," said the doctor. "My name is Dr. Finn. Are you family?"
"For the sake of mercy, pretend that I am," Nick begged. "I'm the closest he's got."
The doctor nodded. "He's doing OK. It's good that you brought him here."
"Why? What's wrong?" Nick said quickly, nervously.
"Nothing, after he takes some medication," said Dr. Finn.
Nick caught sight of the label. "Doctor, you can't give him that! He's an addict!"
"Yes, I know," said the doctor. "Which is precisely why I must give it to him. Or it'll cost him his life. Here's an extra copy of the Ashton Manual for you. It's all about how to successfully and healthily withdraw from benzodiazepines. I am also recommending a withdrawal clinic for him. Can you take him there?"
"Of course," Nick said, nodding quickly. "Yes, anything to get him back to normal."
"Good." He handed Nick another pamphlet. "You can take him when we're done with him here. He needs serious help."
"Yes, yes, I know," said Nick.
The doctor held his breath. "Please, take no offense when I ask this, but are you and Greg sexually active?"
Nick blinked and smiled, confused. "Yes, we both are, but I don't understand what my love life has to do with Greg."
"No, no, no, I mean... Were you ever intimate with each other?" the doctor clarified.
Nick's smile faded. "What does that have to do with anything?"
The doctor nodded. "I'm not judging. I was just wondering if, while you're here, you'd want to have a blood test also."
"Get tested?" He was confused. "Wait, get tested for what?"
The doctor inhaled sharply. "Oh no. Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed that he..." He closed his eyes and silently reprimanded himself. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day. I forgot myself."
"What did you forget?" Nick pressed.
"I can't say anymore," said the doctor, starting off down the hall again. "Confidentiality. You understand."
"Wait, what do you want me to get tested for?" Nick asked. "This isn't just about him anymore, it's suddenly about me, too!"
The doctor picked up the pace but Nick followed, determined. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to talk to him about it." They came to a door and the doctor stopped. "Look, you're going to have to go back to the waiting room. He'll be out in a minute, I promise."
"Please don't give him those pills," Nick begged. "They ruined him."
"Mr. Stokes, believe me when I tell you that at this stage, he's better off with a dose of Valium in his system than without," said Dr. Finn. "He can't just be cut off completely, or it will really ruin him. Now if you would just go to the waiting room..."
He opened the door to the room and there was a crash and he closed it swiftly.
"What was that?" Nick demanded.
Dr. Finn glanced at Nick. "Maybe you should stay."
"Why? What's going on?"
Dr. Finn sighed. "Paranoia is a symptom of the withdrawal," he explained. "When I mentioned a few other psychological symptoms, I may have inadvertently... triggered them."
"What are you saying, exactly?" Nick asked, slowly.
The doctor did not respond with words, but instead opened the door. Both of them entered to see Greg in the corner, watching them with wide pupils. He leapt to his feet and brandished a metal instrument at Nick and Dr. Finn.
"Come any closer and I'll stab you with this scalpel!"
"Greg, that's a spoon," said Dr. Finn slowly.
Greg stopped and examined the item in his hand. "So it is. Would you look at that?"
"Greg, calm down," Dr. Finn said. "You're acting out because you're scared."
"Scared?" Greg said, trembling, and as he stepped under the only florescent light on in the room. Nick saw his pallid features, his sweat drenched skin, and how thin he looked for the first time. "I'm fucking petrified," Greg whispered. He pursed his lips and shook his head, visibly distressed. "Doc, what's going to happen to me?"
"Nothing, if you take this right now," said Dr. Finn, pouring two pills onto his hand and handing them to Greg.
The young man looked down at the tiny pills in his sweaty palm. "This isn't even half my normal dose," he told the doctor.
"OK..." Dr. Finn said slowly, tapping an extra pill out onto his hand and giving it to Greg.
"Not even close," Greg replied.
"How many do you normally take?" asked the doctor.
"Fistfuls," Greg replied.
Dr. Finn sighed. "Take four, then. It's bound to be enough to tide you over until tomorrow."
"Will it get rid of the withdrawal symptoms?" Greg asked, desperately.
"No," Dr. Finn admitted. "But it'll keep you alive. Probably no psychosis, convulsions or catatonia."
"Will the depression stick around?" Greg asked. "The nausea, the chills, the... fear?"
"Greg..." Nick began, empathically, and Greg's eyes flickered over to the Texan.
"What is he doing here?" he demanded. "What are you planning?"
"I thought it would be better if Nick were here to calm you down," said Dr. Finn. "You are visibly distressed."
"You were talking about me, weren't you?" Greg whispered, clinging to his spoon. "Outside, in the hall? What did you say?"
"Nothing!" Nick cried. "Greg, I just want to make sure you're OK."
Greg nodded vigorously, seemingly quite confused. "OK... yeah, right, of course, I know that... I just... I don't know what to think anymore."
"Just take the dose, Greg, and these feelings should subside," said the doctor.
Greg scoffed. "Right. They'll go away, but I'll be dependent on them again, and it'll wreak havoc with my memory and everything and soon enough, I won't remember Nick's name! Is that what you want?"
"Greg, do you know what you're experiencing right now?" Dr. Finn asked, slowly.
"I don't know, Doc, why don't you tell me? Let's see, is it the psychosis? The mania? Am I crazy, is that what you're saying? You want me hooked on the drugs. You want me hooked so I'll buy more and you'll benefit from it. Switch from an illegal dealer to a legal one, and then the government will get paid for it, too. The government! Oh man, don't get me started on the government!"
"Greg, take the pills," Dr. Finn ordered. "It will quell this paranoia you're experiencing."
Greg looked down at his clenched fist. "What if they just make things worse?" he whispered.
Dr. Finn looked pointedly at Nick, who took the hint and stepped forward. "Greg..."
The younger man looked up at the Texan with wide eyes. After a moment he shook his head. "I don't know what's going on anymore, Nicky. My mind is playing tricks on me."
Nick hushed him as he slowly approached. Greg took a step backwards but said nothing. Nick hesitated, and then continued. "You know you can trust me, right?"
Greg tensed, then nodded, a half-stifled sob escaping his lips. "You're the only one I trust," he told Nick, for the second time that night.
"Then Greg, take the pills," Nick said slowly, pointedly.
Greg swallowed. "Nick..."
Nick was close enough now that he took Greg's wrists. They were small and slippery in his grip. "You're so cold."
Greg shuddered and slowly raised his closed fist to his mouth, popping the pills inside. The doctor immediately walked over, bearing a glass of water, which Greg took and drank.
"The clinic is not far from here," said Dr. Finn to Nick. "If you would take him and check him in, they will take it from there—"
"Not today," Greg begged. "I'll go tomorrow, but not today. I just..." He glanced up at Nick. "I just want to fall asleep with you. Just once. That's all. And then I'll go."
"Greg, you're procrastinating," Dr. Finn noted.
"Shut up," Greg snapped. "This is my decision, isn't it?" He turned back to Nick, who was still holding onto his wrist. He maneuvered his hand so their fingers intertwined. "Or maybe it's his."
"I can take him for tonight," Nick said quietly, watching Greg intently. "And in the morning, I'll take him to the clinic."
Greg sniffed, then nodded. Dr. Finn sighed.
"Well... I suppose that will be fine," he said. "If he starts showing intense withdrawal symptoms, give him another dose, but only four pills. Tell the clinic how much he's taking now, and they'll do the rest."
"Yes, doctor," said Nick. "Come on, Greg. Let's take you home."
Nick's arm slid around Greg's shoulders, and he led the younger man towards the door. He grabbed Greg's shirt from off a nearby chair and headed out of the room.
Greg winced as the lights hit his eyes and Nick hushed him again, pulling him closer, and Greg buried his face in Nick's shoulder. "It's too bright."
"Sh..." Nick breathed into his hair. "Hush, it'll be OK. Now come on."
He began to lead Greg down the hall and to the elevator, where he fumbled and hit what he thought was the parking level button. He was distracted by how frail Greg felt in his grip. The younger man wasn't saying much as he hung his head, and Nick knew that the Valium was beginning to kick in. Greg was already becoming more subdued.
Nick stared at him. He couldn't help it. And he wasn't staring at Greg for the usual reasons he stared at Greg. The doctor had said that at this point, Greg would die without the Valium. If they hadn't come to the hospital, if Nick had given in to Greg's will, then he could have lost his best friend. And it was so difficult to resist Greg, even when Nick knew what was best for him. Just as now, Nick knew it would be better to leave him at the clinic, and in Greg's passive state, it would be easy to drive him to the clinic and leave him with professionals. But he knew that Greg would see that as a betrayal, no matter how good Nick's intentions were. And all he was asking for was one night. One night with Nick. And Nick couldn't refuse him that, especially as that was all Nick wanted, too.
The doors to the elevator opened and Nick stumbled out, lost inside his head, with Greg staggering out with him. It was only after the doors closed behind him that Nick realized they were on the emergency room floor by the admit desk. Groaning, he turned around and punched the button again. While he waited, supporting the majority of Greg's weight at this point, he glanced around and his breath hitched in his throat when he saw a familiar blonde head asleep and sprawled over three chairs.
What is she doing here?
His mouth half-open, he looked from Greg, to Catherine, and then the elevator came.
"Greg?" Nick whispered.
"Hm?" Greg replied.
"I'm going to take you back to my car, OK? Will you be alright down there for a sec? I have to check on something."
"Uh huh," Greg answered.
The elevator arrived and Nick pulled Greg back in and made sure to hit the parking level this time. He laboriously led a dazed Greg over to his Tahoe and helped him climb up into the passenger's seat. He looked at him with a pointed gaze. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Don't do anything stupid, OK?"
"No stupid," Greg muttered with a nod. "Got it."
Nick nervously but carefully closed the door to the car. Greg leaned his head against the window and Nick took a few steps backwards, still watching him. He locked the car, hoping that Greg wouldn't try to get out, but that if he did, he would be too sedated to figure out how to unlock it. And then, he jogged back toward the elevator and took it back up to the ER.
Catherine hadn't moved in the few minutes he'd been gone. He quietly moved towards her and kneeled in front of her, hoping against hope that nothing had happened to Lindsey. He couldn't think of any other reason the woman would be here, instead of at home. It was almost time for their shift to start, and if Grissom was down Nick, Greg and Catherine, then all he had left was Riley.
"Hey," Nick said, but the woman did not stir. "Catherine. Wake up." He softy touched her shoulder and her eyes fluttered. She seemed surprised to see him.
"Nicky... What are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you the same question," said Nick. "Is Lindsey OK?"
Catherine frowned. "Lindsey?"
"I just assumed that she was the reason you'd be here," Nick explained.
Catherine yawned. "Oh, no. I've been here since this morning, waiting for a victim to wake up."
"Couldn't you have gone home and asked them to page you?"
"That's what Brass did," Catherine replied, "but I wanted to talk to her myself. Grissom has forbidden me from calling Greg, so..."
"Why do you want to call Greg?"
"He was at our crime scene," said Catherine. "He called it in. I heard the 911 tape."
Whatever color was left in Nick's cheeks vanished. "What was he doing there?"
"I don't know," Catherine admitted with a shrug. "That's why I need to ask the victim. Ana Peréz." Catherine yawned. "I've forgotten how hard it is to sleep in waiting rooms."
"Ms. Willows?" someone called, and both Nick and Catherine looked up. "Miss Peréz is awake now and ready to speak with you."
Catherine smiled at the nurse and thanked her. She sat up and stretched before getting to her feet.
"Cath, do you mind if I..."
He didn't finish and she blinked at him. After a moment, she smiled. "Sure. You can come along."
He followed her down the hall. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. Nick had no doubt that she had been there before, watching the victim sleep. He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Greg was at a crime scene. Had it been a drug bust? Would this mean further trouble for him? Nick's stomach twisted at the thought.
Catherine opened the door to the room and stepped inside, followed by Nick. The woman in the bed was bruised, and had a bandage wrapped around her head. She slowly turned until she was facing the two of them.
Nick's jaw almost dropped to the floor.
"Camellia."