gregsandersfan
Pathologist
Disclaimer: I don’t own them.
Summary: Greg admitted that it hurt, and somehow she felt that he meant it in more than one way. Spoilers for “Fannysmackin”.
Rating: T
A/N: Thanks to Emmithar for the beta!
Little by Little
The wall was hard, the blows were painful. The fall that followed was even harder, the pain setting in after the daze of the impact had vanished. He did not get a second of rest; the kicks of the hooded attackers coming on him from all sides. He tried to crawl, tried to get away, always managed only a few inches, the pain hitting him on all sides, excruating him until he was not able to crawl any further and just kept lying on the ground facedown.
They were still beating him, turning him around then. He was not able to defend or protect himself anymore, the blows to his head just kept going on. His vision swam and the pain was threatening to overcome him, unconsciousness was nearing. Maybe it would be a mercy; he would not feel the pain anymore. Greg was just too afraid that he would never wake up again, his attackers kicking him to death.
A last picture was enough. It would tell them clearly enough how the kicks had gone down on the man, showing marks that helped them identify the shoes the attackers had been wearing. Sara was sweaty from the kicks she had given to the dummy, so she went for the shower once she had cleaned up the leftovers of her experiment.
The ordeal seemed to go forever; Greg had lost any feeling for time or space or even his own body; there was only the pain, the agonizing one in his whole body, and the sharp one every time another blow came down on him. It was when the kicks stopped that Greg could feel some of the outside world again, even noticing when one of the perpetrators spit on him. He was not able to see anything but he could hear their car scratching what he assumed was his.
Greg’s head rolled to his side, any strength to hold it up long gone. He could feel the blood in his face, he just did not know where it exactly came from. He could not know how severely he was hurt, if he was dying, but it felt like it, now that he was not able to stay conscious any longer.
She could hear the upheaval in the hallway when she came out of the shower. She dressed quickly, ready to leave the locker room, when she heard a name being called out in the hallway that made her heart miss a beat. ‘Greg Sanders.’ Rushing into the corridor, she stopped the first person she could get hold off, Archie Johnson. Her urgent question what had happened was answered quickly. And Sara had thrown on her vest and was out before anybody could even think about stopping her.
He woke up to blackness, his senses only kicking in slowly, the darkness remaining though when he could not open his eyes. Along with it returned the pain. It was what convinced him that he was still alive and somehow it surprised him. He tried to move. It made the pain only worse and he stopped. He could hear commotion nearby. He hoped it was his back-up, prayed that help was close. He did not know how much later it was that somebody next to him called his name, asking if he could hear them. He nodded weakly, not knowing that it was not more than a twitch he made.
He was just lying there. Paramedics were attending the other two men lying on the ground, but nobody was with him. He was just lying there alone, unmoving. As if he was dead. He was not. She knew that. But why was he left lying there, why was nobody helping him?
“Why is there no paramedic on Greg?” she asked Sofia urgently, careful to not let out the emotions that were threatening to overcome her.
“He’s been stabilized,” Sofia assured her. “Sara,” she added, turning to the brunette, “he’s going to be okay.”
Sara moved over to him quickly, lowering herself on her knees next to him. She looked down at him sadly for a moment, before she reached out to carefully stroke his hair, taking in his bruised, bloody face.
She was next to him. He had known that it was her the moment she had come. He knew her smell, her own one and the one that accompanied her after she had taken a shower. This scent had announced her even before she had put her hand in his hair, which was more than calming, showing her care, convincing him that he would be fine.
“Sara,” he whispered immediately, although his eyes were closed.
“I didn’t think you could see me,” she brought out, her hand still in his hair.
“I can’t,” he stated quietly, barely able to speak. “I know that Sidle scent.”
She sounded snuffy, knowing that the tears were close. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” She sniffled, trying to hold on the last rest of composure. She looked away from him for a moment, turning back quickly, when Greg spoke again.
“I scratched one of them,” he said, lifting his right hand weakly. “And you should check my vest. I think the same guy spit one me,” he brought out quietly, while Sara was looking at his hand. Sara was silent, but Greg continued, while she could not believe that he was thinking about evidence now. “One of their cars crashed into the Denali. I guarantee there’s transfer on it.”
Thinking about all of that had distracted him from the pain. He could not just lie there and hope that it would just go away. And he knew that they had to find the attackers, find them before anybody else would be hurt or killed. He told Sara of all the possible evidence he was able to think of right now. He was a CSI; he was able to help the investigation. And that was what Sara was here for.
Sara was struggling what to say, trying to speak without starting to cry. She could not speak, so she caressed his hair instead. He was going to be fine, she had to remember that.
“You should process the scene now, me later,” Greg said, clearly in pain and Sara wished she knew what she could do to stop him from tormenting himself any further.
She sniffed again. “I came her for Greg,” she told him, a hint of a sad smile crossing her face, now that she had managed to tell him.
He let out a sigh, while her hand was still on his head. He sighed, but did not speak anymore, stopping what had been painful, visibly relaxing now, having heard the first good thing after this night of misery.
He could hear her sniffing again, followed by what he thought was a quiet sob. She stroked his hair, and he wondered if she was crying. He did not want her to. He did not want her to be sad; he was going to be fine, she had to know that.
She stayed with him until the paramedics came to transport him off into the hospital. And even then her hand had not left his touch. She told them that she intended to go with him, assuring both the paramedics and Nick and Warrick who had come to process the scene that she was going to collect the evidence of Greg and the other victim. Nick’s look showed clearly that he knew this was not the reason she wanted to ride with Greg, at least not in the inside.
Once they were at the hospital she did not get to see him for a seemingly endless time. At least it was soothing to know he was going to be alright. Once they were finished on him, they informed her, obviously expecting her now to do what she had done with the previous, female, victim as well: process him for evidence.
Somehow he looked even worse now than he had on the scene. Maybe it was just because of the all the bandages, one of them covering a great part of his head. She felt the need to reach out to him again, realizing though that she would not be able to stroke his hair again like she had done earlier. Not that it would have been appropriate. And she did not want to cause him pain. And it was not what she was here for. For what was she here? Greg of course. And the evidence.
At least he was able to look at her again now. She appeared sad and he did not like it.
“You never take a break, huh?” he cracked coarsely. She smiled only. She had said she was there for him. But she was for work as well. He was her work now. Greg closed his eyes, lifting his hand. “You’re going to start working, Sidle? You can’t stand around there all day.” It did not come out as lightly as he had hoped, his voice betraying him. And he did not even know if he had meant to be funny.
She took his hand, trying to focus on her task, banning the thoughts about him, him and what he had said. And what she had said. What she had meant even more so.
Sara sighed quietly, closing her eyes, trying to regain her focus. She scratched under his fingernails, collecting possible evidence.
Maybe she should have left out the squeeze she gave his hand before she let go of it. Or rather tried to let go of it, for he grabbed her hand, returning her squeeze.
He just wanted to entangle his hand in hers. Hold onto it and forget about everything that was and everything that was to come from the ordeal. He knew that would not happen.
He let go of her hand and she continued working. For some seconds he did not know what she was doing, his eyes still closed.
“I’m sorry, but this might hurt a bit,” she said then. It was the voice she would be using again and again when she had to process victims. She was not using another one now.
He could feel her trying to take a sample from a wound in his face and winced when the sharp pain came, the one the drugs did not work on.
He did not see the tears in her eyes. Greg was hurt. She was trying to find out who had hurt him, but right now she was paining him even more. She sniffed as quiet as possible. She needed to be rational. She only did what was necessary. She did not know why she asked the next question then.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yeah,” he admitted honestly. Somehow she felt that he meant it in more than one way.
************************************************************
The bruises were still there, clear signs of what had happened. Greg could not stand looking in the mirror for longer. Sighing he moved his hand through his hair where the doctors had removed the bandage on his head.
Leaving the hospital restroom he set on a hopeful smile, knowing that Sara was waiting outside for him, ready to take him home.
Greg smiled at her when he came out. She could not avoid smiling back at him weakly, although she sensed that her own faint smile contained more real joy and confidence than his.
She took his hand in hers, moving to get out of the building. In a way she had grown addicted to his touch, if that was the right word for it. Ever since the beating had occurred and she had come to him on the scene, she had felt that need. It had given them comfort then and it was doing so now. And she did not plan on letting it go any time soon.
His smile was a bit more real now, but it was not complete happiness.
“There’s going to be a hearing?” Sara asked, touching the sore spot. She had to know that there was; her co-workers were on the case after all. But he thanked her internally for trying to bring of the topic on his own pace.
“Yeah.”
“It’s going to be alright,” she said.
Once again he thanked her silently, this time adding a smile though. She deserved it, needed it probably. He, on the other hand, did not even know if he would be able to rejoice if things were really going to be alright. Whatever they would rule to call his actions, the fact of them would not change.
“Believe me,” Sara added as an emphasis to her affirmation and Greg gave her another smile.
Summary: Greg admitted that it hurt, and somehow she felt that he meant it in more than one way. Spoilers for “Fannysmackin”.
Rating: T
A/N: Thanks to Emmithar for the beta!
Little by Little
The wall was hard, the blows were painful. The fall that followed was even harder, the pain setting in after the daze of the impact had vanished. He did not get a second of rest; the kicks of the hooded attackers coming on him from all sides. He tried to crawl, tried to get away, always managed only a few inches, the pain hitting him on all sides, excruating him until he was not able to crawl any further and just kept lying on the ground facedown.
They were still beating him, turning him around then. He was not able to defend or protect himself anymore, the blows to his head just kept going on. His vision swam and the pain was threatening to overcome him, unconsciousness was nearing. Maybe it would be a mercy; he would not feel the pain anymore. Greg was just too afraid that he would never wake up again, his attackers kicking him to death.
A last picture was enough. It would tell them clearly enough how the kicks had gone down on the man, showing marks that helped them identify the shoes the attackers had been wearing. Sara was sweaty from the kicks she had given to the dummy, so she went for the shower once she had cleaned up the leftovers of her experiment.
The ordeal seemed to go forever; Greg had lost any feeling for time or space or even his own body; there was only the pain, the agonizing one in his whole body, and the sharp one every time another blow came down on him. It was when the kicks stopped that Greg could feel some of the outside world again, even noticing when one of the perpetrators spit on him. He was not able to see anything but he could hear their car scratching what he assumed was his.
Greg’s head rolled to his side, any strength to hold it up long gone. He could feel the blood in his face, he just did not know where it exactly came from. He could not know how severely he was hurt, if he was dying, but it felt like it, now that he was not able to stay conscious any longer.
She could hear the upheaval in the hallway when she came out of the shower. She dressed quickly, ready to leave the locker room, when she heard a name being called out in the hallway that made her heart miss a beat. ‘Greg Sanders.’ Rushing into the corridor, she stopped the first person she could get hold off, Archie Johnson. Her urgent question what had happened was answered quickly. And Sara had thrown on her vest and was out before anybody could even think about stopping her.
He woke up to blackness, his senses only kicking in slowly, the darkness remaining though when he could not open his eyes. Along with it returned the pain. It was what convinced him that he was still alive and somehow it surprised him. He tried to move. It made the pain only worse and he stopped. He could hear commotion nearby. He hoped it was his back-up, prayed that help was close. He did not know how much later it was that somebody next to him called his name, asking if he could hear them. He nodded weakly, not knowing that it was not more than a twitch he made.
He was just lying there. Paramedics were attending the other two men lying on the ground, but nobody was with him. He was just lying there alone, unmoving. As if he was dead. He was not. She knew that. But why was he left lying there, why was nobody helping him?
“Why is there no paramedic on Greg?” she asked Sofia urgently, careful to not let out the emotions that were threatening to overcome her.
“He’s been stabilized,” Sofia assured her. “Sara,” she added, turning to the brunette, “he’s going to be okay.”
Sara moved over to him quickly, lowering herself on her knees next to him. She looked down at him sadly for a moment, before she reached out to carefully stroke his hair, taking in his bruised, bloody face.
She was next to him. He had known that it was her the moment she had come. He knew her smell, her own one and the one that accompanied her after she had taken a shower. This scent had announced her even before she had put her hand in his hair, which was more than calming, showing her care, convincing him that he would be fine.
“Sara,” he whispered immediately, although his eyes were closed.
“I didn’t think you could see me,” she brought out, her hand still in his hair.
“I can’t,” he stated quietly, barely able to speak. “I know that Sidle scent.”
She sounded snuffy, knowing that the tears were close. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” She sniffled, trying to hold on the last rest of composure. She looked away from him for a moment, turning back quickly, when Greg spoke again.
“I scratched one of them,” he said, lifting his right hand weakly. “And you should check my vest. I think the same guy spit one me,” he brought out quietly, while Sara was looking at his hand. Sara was silent, but Greg continued, while she could not believe that he was thinking about evidence now. “One of their cars crashed into the Denali. I guarantee there’s transfer on it.”
Thinking about all of that had distracted him from the pain. He could not just lie there and hope that it would just go away. And he knew that they had to find the attackers, find them before anybody else would be hurt or killed. He told Sara of all the possible evidence he was able to think of right now. He was a CSI; he was able to help the investigation. And that was what Sara was here for.
Sara was struggling what to say, trying to speak without starting to cry. She could not speak, so she caressed his hair instead. He was going to be fine, she had to remember that.
“You should process the scene now, me later,” Greg said, clearly in pain and Sara wished she knew what she could do to stop him from tormenting himself any further.
She sniffed again. “I came her for Greg,” she told him, a hint of a sad smile crossing her face, now that she had managed to tell him.
He let out a sigh, while her hand was still on his head. He sighed, but did not speak anymore, stopping what had been painful, visibly relaxing now, having heard the first good thing after this night of misery.
He could hear her sniffing again, followed by what he thought was a quiet sob. She stroked his hair, and he wondered if she was crying. He did not want her to. He did not want her to be sad; he was going to be fine, she had to know that.
She stayed with him until the paramedics came to transport him off into the hospital. And even then her hand had not left his touch. She told them that she intended to go with him, assuring both the paramedics and Nick and Warrick who had come to process the scene that she was going to collect the evidence of Greg and the other victim. Nick’s look showed clearly that he knew this was not the reason she wanted to ride with Greg, at least not in the inside.
Once they were at the hospital she did not get to see him for a seemingly endless time. At least it was soothing to know he was going to be alright. Once they were finished on him, they informed her, obviously expecting her now to do what she had done with the previous, female, victim as well: process him for evidence.
Somehow he looked even worse now than he had on the scene. Maybe it was just because of the all the bandages, one of them covering a great part of his head. She felt the need to reach out to him again, realizing though that she would not be able to stroke his hair again like she had done earlier. Not that it would have been appropriate. And she did not want to cause him pain. And it was not what she was here for. For what was she here? Greg of course. And the evidence.
At least he was able to look at her again now. She appeared sad and he did not like it.
“You never take a break, huh?” he cracked coarsely. She smiled only. She had said she was there for him. But she was for work as well. He was her work now. Greg closed his eyes, lifting his hand. “You’re going to start working, Sidle? You can’t stand around there all day.” It did not come out as lightly as he had hoped, his voice betraying him. And he did not even know if he had meant to be funny.
She took his hand, trying to focus on her task, banning the thoughts about him, him and what he had said. And what she had said. What she had meant even more so.
Sara sighed quietly, closing her eyes, trying to regain her focus. She scratched under his fingernails, collecting possible evidence.
Maybe she should have left out the squeeze she gave his hand before she let go of it. Or rather tried to let go of it, for he grabbed her hand, returning her squeeze.
He just wanted to entangle his hand in hers. Hold onto it and forget about everything that was and everything that was to come from the ordeal. He knew that would not happen.
He let go of her hand and she continued working. For some seconds he did not know what she was doing, his eyes still closed.
“I’m sorry, but this might hurt a bit,” she said then. It was the voice she would be using again and again when she had to process victims. She was not using another one now.
He could feel her trying to take a sample from a wound in his face and winced when the sharp pain came, the one the drugs did not work on.
He did not see the tears in her eyes. Greg was hurt. She was trying to find out who had hurt him, but right now she was paining him even more. She sniffed as quiet as possible. She needed to be rational. She only did what was necessary. She did not know why she asked the next question then.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yeah,” he admitted honestly. Somehow she felt that he meant it in more than one way.
************************************************************
The bruises were still there, clear signs of what had happened. Greg could not stand looking in the mirror for longer. Sighing he moved his hand through his hair where the doctors had removed the bandage on his head.
Leaving the hospital restroom he set on a hopeful smile, knowing that Sara was waiting outside for him, ready to take him home.
Greg smiled at her when he came out. She could not avoid smiling back at him weakly, although she sensed that her own faint smile contained more real joy and confidence than his.
She took his hand in hers, moving to get out of the building. In a way she had grown addicted to his touch, if that was the right word for it. Ever since the beating had occurred and she had come to him on the scene, she had felt that need. It had given them comfort then and it was doing so now. And she did not plan on letting it go any time soon.
His smile was a bit more real now, but it was not complete happiness.
“There’s going to be a hearing?” Sara asked, touching the sore spot. She had to know that there was; her co-workers were on the case after all. But he thanked her internally for trying to bring of the topic on his own pace.
“Yeah.”
“It’s going to be alright,” she said.
Once again he thanked her silently, this time adding a smile though. She deserved it, needed it probably. He, on the other hand, did not even know if he would be able to rejoice if things were really going to be alright. Whatever they would rule to call his actions, the fact of them would not change.
“Believe me,” Sara added as an emphasis to her affirmation and Greg gave her another smile.
