Buried Alive

I apologize for my absence on this story, writers block is never a good thing to have especially on this story since I love it so much! Anyways, I hope you like it!

Chapter 8

"Bad news? What do you mean bad news?" Nick blurted out. Catherine placed a hand on the man's bicep, squeezing it lightly.

Dr. Moorhead sighed sadly, hating to be the bearer of bad news…but it came with the job. It was an occupational hazard. "Like I said, there was a lot of intracranial swelling that caused the seizures and until we get it down, there is no way of knowing if there is brain damage."

"But there's a possibility that there will be?" Sara asked.

"Yes; the blows to his head caused cracking of the skull and a serious concussion. He was very lucky there was no bleeding into the brain. However, I hate to say, that he's in a very deep coma at the moment."

"A coma? Oh fuck." Nick put his head and his hand, trying to take a deep breath. This was already so much, but he knew there was more to come. A lot more.

"D-Do you know when he'll come out of it?" Emma sniffed.

"I'm truly sorry, Mrs. Sanders, but there is no way of knowing. We're just gonna have to wait…however, that's only the major issue."

"What else is there?" Catherine whispered, rubbing her hand up and down Nick's arm.

"I'm afraid it's not a short list." Dr. Moorhead took a deep breath and began. "Greg obtained three broken ribs, nevertheless he is very lucky none of them punctured a lung. Unfortunately, one of them did stab his spleen causing internal bleeding. We had to remove it and usually in situations like that, it's not a problem but Greg is suffering from multiple infections as well as having an allergic reaction to the ant bites and it makes not having a spleen very critical. The infections are causing him to have a very high fever and if the cooling blankets along with intravenous fluids don't work, we're gonna have to bring him to the ice bath again. And speaking about the bites, there is some swelling going on at the sites but not as bad as it had been when he arrived here. He also has a dislocated shoulder, but that's been fixed immediately. His fingernails on his left hand all got ripped off, so that will take at least six months for the damaged ones to grow back. He also seemed to get bronchitis and we are currently treating him for that as well. It's a lot to take in, I know and the next few days will be extremely critical, but I assure you all that I will do everything in my power to get him back on his feet."

Emma was crying into her husband's shoulder while everyone else had lost the color in their faces. It sounded so much worse now that they knew the extent of the injuries. Nick was trembling in fear, yet anger. Anger at the man who did this to his little brother and wishing that he had the pleasure to kill the bastard. But all of that was over and now he had to be here for his brother- both physically and mentally.

"When can we see him, doctor," Mr. Sanders said, clutching his wife close to him.

"I'm afraid no one can visit him at the time. Until we can clear the infections and get his fever down to a safer level, there are to be no outside anomalies entering the room without proper sterilization." Dr. Moorhead stared sadly at these group of people; Greg had a very loving family and she felt bad for not letting them see the kid. "But I have no objection over you all seeing him through the window."

Nick looked up, his heart beating against his chest with anxiety. Hell yes he wanted to see Greg! "Yes…please…definitely."

Dr. Moorhead smiled as she stood up, the rest of the team doing the same. "Then follow me."

They all walked down the hallway quietly, passing bustling nurses and hobbling patients. All they had on their minds were how Greg would look and according to what the doctor had told them, they knew it would be really bad. Nick swallowed nervously and took a deep breath; a part of him wanted to see his brother, but another part of him was terrified. He hated seeing Greg hurt whether it was physically or emotionally; when Greg got hurt, it ripped him a little inside. And when they reached the window and looked inside, he was destroyed inside.

"Oh god." And then Nick suddenly wanted to collapse.

Hands flew to mouths, gasps were stifled and people started shedding tears. Greg looked horrible…no, that was a complete understatement. Nick had seen better looking corpses on Doc Robin's table. The kid was wrapped in so many bandages, that there was barely any skin to see… but the skin that was showing was irritated and swollen. A large bandage wrapped around Greg's head, hiding the blonde hair they all loved. A tube snaked out from underneath and to a machine, draining the excess fluid from his brain. Moving down, a nasal cannula was sitting underneath his nose, giving him the much needed oxygen to his deprived lungs. A thick beige bandage wrapped around the kid's body all the way from under his armpits and down to his waist. His arm was hung in a sling, held snug against his body and rising and falling with each of Greg's shallow breaths. The fingers on his left hand were wrapped together in a bandage, but spots of blood could still be seen through it. Cooling blankets were packed on top and around the kid, trying to bring down his dangerously high fever. A thick layer of sweat could be seen coating his face and neck; it also looked like Greg lost at least forty pounds. Greg was already skinny enough; he didn't need weight loss, if anything, he needed weight gain.

"Oh Greg," Mr. Sander's whispered, rubbing his wife's arm. Catherine and Sara were crying, Warrick was muttering swears under his breath, Grissom was shaking his head and had his eyes closed and Nick…Nick was about to be sick. He had been killed inside. Greg didn't deserve this. No one did.

1 Week Later

"Mr. and Mrs. Sanders?"

The two parents looked up as did Nick who would not leave the hospital until he knew Greg was absolutely okay. Catherine, Sara, and Warrick had begged him to go home and get some rest, but honestly he couldn't; every time he closed his eyes, he would dream of Greg being trapped in the godforsaken box and then it would switch to his box, making him go back to place the never wanted to think about again. Other nightmares he would have was watching Greg take his last breath or get to the box, find Greg dead and it be too late. He then vowed to never take his eyes of the kid when they were at a scene or anywhere he felt was dangerous. He knew Greg might hate that, but he wasn't gonna lose the kid…not again. However, speaking about crime scenes, he wondered if Greg was ever gonna want to come work at the lab again. This was a traumatizing experience and as sensitive as Greg was, his mental state might keep him from doing the job he loved.

"You can go see your son now."

"Oh, thank god," Emma sighed with relief. The two stood up and looked at Nick.

"Do you want to come, sweetie?"

"No, you guys go be with him first; I don't want to be intruding on your privacy."

"You sure, son?" Mr. Sanders frowned. He admired this man's dedication to his job and the brotherly protection he had over his son.

"Yeah, ya'll go; I'll sit with him later."

"Okay." With that, the two followed Dr. Moorhead down the hall.

"Now even though he's still in the coma, I urge you to talk to him, let him know you're here. There are myths that the patient can hear what's going on around them. Hopefully, it'll get him to…"

The doctor's voice faded with distance, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts. The waiting room was quiet except for the nurse typing on her computer and the elevator dinging now and then. He groaned in frustration while wiping both his hands down his face; none of this should've happened. It was just all wrong…and worse, he feared that Greg would never want to talk to him anymore. The last thing he said to the kid must've hurt like hell and now…if Greg didn't make it because of all those fucking injuries, Nick wasn't gonna be able to live with himself. He was sure of it.

"I'm so sorry, G. Please-"

"Code blue in CCU room 313! Code blue in CCU room 313," a voice shouted over the intercom

Nick perked up…he recognized that room number. His brain was slow from lack of sleep and it took him a couple seconds to realize they were calling off Greg's room number.

"Oh shit." Without caring that he shouldn't go back there, Nick pushed himself off the chair and bolted down the hallway. Please no, please don't do this Greggo. And he knew when he reached the area when he saw Greg's parents standing out in the hallway, Emma bawling her eyes out and Mr. Sanders trying to be strong for his wife. Nick's heart sunk even lower when he saw this, because he knew that something bad was going on. Skidding to a stop and almost out of breath, he looked into the room and his legs went weak.

"Clear!" Dr. Moorhead's voice sounded muffled behind the glass windows.

And then he saw Greg's body jerk up just like in the ambulance. Only this was worse; Greg had been doing fine all week, so what the hell was going on? Why was the kid dying?

"Still nothing."

"Come on Greggo," He whispered, placing a hand on the glass.

"Charge to 300…Clear!"

"No pulse."

Nick cursed, trying to keep the tears at bay. He saw Dr. Moorhead stop and wipe her forehead with her sleeve before putting the paddles away. No, no, no! What the fuck was she doing? She can't give up now.

"Start compressions."

"Thank god," Mr. Sander's breathed. Apparently, he'd been thinking the same thing.

Four pairs of eyes watched the monitor and Greg as compressions and emergency breaths were being administered. It seemed to go on forever and with each minute that the EKG remained flat, the less hope everyone had…especially Nick. It was over; Greg's life was over and so was his. Because if Greg died and he could've done something about it, then Nick would drink himself to oblivion. He wasn't living without his little brother.

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TBC…

Sorry it's a slow and boring chapter, but it was something to get us all over the hump. Next chapter comes the real stuff. :) REVIEWS!