Twelve Weeks Later
Greg stepped off the elevator and immediately people stopped to welcome him back, shake his hand and pat him on the back. The attention embarrassed him to the point he made a beeline for Grissom's office.
Grissom pecked at his keyboard. He heard the commotion as Greg came down the hall and stopped, watching him come in. Greg smiled and waved to the lab tech talking to him.
"Gotta go. Thanks. Thanks." He shut the door and turned, leaning on it. "Remind me never to stay away too long and try coming back. Wow!"
Grissom's brow furrowed. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back for another four weeks."
"About that..." Greg walked over to a chair and sat down. "Could you pull some strings? I want to come back to work now."
"Greg, you almost died. I want you to take your full medical leave."
"I'm going stir crazy. I want to get back to work."
Grissom leaned on his desk. "After the last close call--"
"I don't have a serial killer stalking me anymore. I'm fine."
"And then we still have to talk about your behavior."
"Back to the no serial killer stalking me."
"And you said you couldn't work with Nick."
Greg laughed, letting his head fall back. "Noooo!"
Grissom was smiling when he looked back at him. "I knew that was a lie."
"So I can start working today?"
"No. You're taking the full sixteen weeks."
"The doc said I was fine. No trace of the flu."
Grissom frowned at him. He grabbed a folder from a pile and opened it.
"Greg Sanders is still experiencing some weakness and fatigue. He--"
"Okay. Okay. So maybe that's not entirely true. How about part time? I'll stay in the lab."
Grissom pursed his lips. "I'll see what I can do about eight hours a week for now. And you will stay in the lab, no arguments."
"No arguments. Thank you, Grissom!"
Greg stood.
"Since your here, I do need to talk to you about the case files you and Nick took out of the building without permission."
Greg's humor dissipated as he sat down. "We had to hide them, Grissom. We didn't know what he was going to do. We couldn't--"
"I credited the investigation to you and Nick. Moreover, you both had been working on it since Petra's arrest, and those files never left the building. Understand?"
"Yes. I understand."
"And this will never happen again, will it?"
Greg hesitated. Grissom's eyebrows rose.
"If it means keeping my friends safe, I can't promise that, Grissom."
"While I appreciate your concern, Greg, I'd like to think we could have stopped him sooner if we'd known what was happening to you. I, personally, would have accepted the risk over what happened to you and Nick any day."
Greg nodded. "I promise."
"Thank you. If I get the hours approved, I'll call you. But you won't start until Monday."
Greg started to argue.
"You promised no arguments," Grissom reminded him.
"Monday sounds great." Greg jumped up and walked to the door.
"You know, Greg, it was very ingenious to use your key to tell Warrick where you kept your investigation files."
Greg turned back to him. "It was nothing. I knew he'd figure it out. It took him, what, a whole ten minutes."
"Three."
"See? I can't take all the credit. See you later, Grissom."
Grissom smiled, watching him leave. Before he was out of sight, more co-workers stopped him, welcoming him back.
Quietly he told the room, "Of this one I am proud."
Greg passed the locker room, glancing in. He stopped and walked back.
"Hey Greg," he heard someone say.
He waved but didn't look away. Nick sat at the end of the benches, staring at his hand. Even from the hall Greg could see it was trembling. Greg walked in and he quickly put his hand down on his leg to hide the tremble. He looked up and for a second surprise covered his face. He smiled, standing up.
"Hey, Greggo!"
"Hey. Haven't seen you since I got out of the hospital. How are you?"
"Good. You're back?"
"Not yet. Grissom said I can't come back till Monday, and then only eight hours a week."
"He's just looking out for you."
"Yeah."
Greg stopped by his locker. Nick walked to his locker and opened it. Greg leaned back against the lockers, watching Nick's back.
"When are you going to tell me?" Greg asked.
"Tell you what?"
"Don't do that, Nick."
"What?" Nick turned to him.
"Your hand was shaking when I came in. What's going on?"
Nick instinctively slid his hands into his pockets. "It's nothing. Doctor said it'll go away."
"What will?"
Nick smiled nervously.
Greg decided it wasn't worth pressing. Not if Nick was dead set on keeping whatever was wrong a secret.
"I gotta go. Got another appointment with another CDC doctor. They're determined to make sure my body killed this bug. Maybe I'll see you Monday."
Greg walked past Nick. He reached the door when Nick said, "Actually, I might have hand tremors the rest of my life."
Greg stopped. He turned, watching Nick. He was staring at his hand again, but it wasn't shaking this time.
"The Hymenoptera venom?"
"Yeah."
Greg nodded, looking down. "Are you working this Sunday?"
"No."
"Why don't we take a couple bikes up to the hills and terrorize small animals?"
Nick laughed. "Eight?"
"Yeah. Eight. Where do you want to meet for breakfast?"
"The diner?"
"Okay. See ya Sunday at eight."
Nick nodded. Greg watched him disappear from sight, and then headed back to the elevator with faded humor. Nick had been given a permanent reminder of the incident. Somehow that didn't seem fair.
Greg stepped into the car that came for him and leaned back against the wall. He rested his head against the wall. He had lied to Grissom, he really didn't feel okay, and this short jaunt left him feeling fatigued. Greg closed his eyes, letting his mind drift.
From the darkness behind his eyes, from the depths of his subconscious, Blaine Juhl slunk into the light of his mind's eyes. He grinned an insane, clown like smile, and held up syringe filled with white fluid.
"Come on, Greggy waggy. You want another shot, don't you? One for the road? You can quit any time you want."
Greg's eyes popped open, banishing the demon back to the depths, but not the feeling of intense fear. He dug into his hip pocket and pulled out a cellophane wrapped sucker. Greg tore off the wrapper and popped in his mouth. By the time the doors opened again, his nerves were calm. He left the building, feeling up to a few rounds of poker.