CSI - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Two Faces To Every Being ❯ Countdown: Day 2 - Frustration and Forgiveness ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
<b>Disclaimer</b>: I do not own CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. It is owned by Bruckheimer Productions. This is a not-for-profit story for entertainment purposes only.
<b>Warning: Swearing, homosexuality!! Drug use!! </b>
Jodine16: I'm so sorry for not updating this story. Would y'all believe me if I told ya I, uh, kind of forgot? >_< Anyway, yeah here's another chapter. My sister was badgering me and insisting I update.
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<center><u>Chapter Two - Countdown: Day 2 - Frustration and Forgiveness</center></u>
Greg's P.O.V.
I had been using some cover up makeup I got from Jacqui to at least hide the mark that would soon turn into a nasty bruise, when I saw Grissom walk by. I knew the cut on my lip wouldn't go unquestioned, but I could say I got it from a fight, because it was true, right? Thankfully, though, my back was to the windows he was passing so he didn't notice.
I think I got a half hour of peace before the night shift was suppose to start when Nick and Warrick came it, more than likely making my lab their second stop apart from the locker room.
“Whoa, Greggo, what's with the cut lip?” Warrick said when he came into my domain.
“Well, that's an interesting way of saying hello,” I said sarcastically. “I was in a fight if you must know.” I critically looked over the skin around my lips to make sure that I placed the make up on evenly.
“You're married and you were in a fight. Greg that doesn't sound like you,” Nick said. Great, now he's going all CSI on me.
“This is the part where I spill my private life to your two in hopes of a great laugh, but I'm feeling too pissed off to do that. Now, I have to work on these samples the dayshift oh so kindly left for me,” I said, standing.
“Oh, c'mon, you're always telling people, who you're latest catch is, why should this be any different?” Nick grinned at me.
I was about to come back at him with a retort when Warrick stepped closer to me. “That's a nice hickie you got there.”
“Nick, Warrick, we have a double homicide.” I don't think I've ever been so happy to hear Grissom's voice in my life.
“We'll meet you out front,” Warrick said casually.
Grissom nodded and looked like he was about to leave when his eyes landed on me. “What happened to your lip, Greg?”
“I was in a fight,” I said, shifting my gaze else where. I suddenly felt uncomfortable having his infamous calculating stare on me. “I need to go see Archie about our, uh, Geek Fest on Friday. Excuse me.”
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End of Greg's P.O.V.
Catherine and Nick were entering the break room for a quick bite to eat, while looking through their notes, when they saw Greg leaning against the counter, breathing heavily.
“Greg, you okay?” Nick asked, walking over to the lab tech.
“No…I don't feel so good…” Greg's voice was strained as he clutched his stomach.
Catherine was suddenly at his side with a bottle of water in hand. “Here, go lie down and I'll go get-” She never got to finish her sentence when Greg lunged for the garbage can nearby and hurled his guts out. Greg shakily sat back on his heels. He looked up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“C'mon, let's get you to the couch” Nick said softly, his eyes reflecting his worry and concern. The Texan helped him to his feet, but was startled when Greg clung to his arm. “Greg?”
“My legs aren't supporting me very well,” he mumbled, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. Nick helped him to the couch before handing him the bottle Catherine got for him. “Where'd Catherine go?” Greg asked after sipping some water.
“I think she went go get Grissom,” Nick said, looking around. “Yeah, here they come.”
“Greg what happened?” Were the first words out of the supervisor's mouth.
Greg gave him a tiny smile. “I think I've just got a little stomach bug. I started feeling nauseous a couple hours into shift.”
“What chemicals were you handling?” Grissom inquired.
“Just the usual, honest.” Greg stood, though he was still a little unsteady. “Look, my break is over, so I better get back in the lab so I can see if Sara's DNA swabs are done processing.”
“If you aren't feeling well, you should go home,” Grissom said pointedly.
“I'm fine really. If I start feeling sick again I'll just come back here and crash, until I feel better, okay? Besides, you guys are working a high profile case and I am the best DNA tech here,” Greg said, with his patented goofy grin.
Catherine laughed. “I think he's going to be fine, Gil.”
Grissom didn't look convinced. “I'm serious, Greg, I don't want you collapsing while you wok or contaminating evidence.”
“I won't I swear on my entire collection of CDs that I'll come here if I feel sick again,” Greg insisted.
Grissom sighed. “Fine.” Greg grinned, leaving the break room with the water bottle in hand.
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It was an hour and a half before the shift was over and Nick, Sara, and Warrick were all trooping to Greg's lab for results that they were paged about. When they got there, the only things they found were five folders, each addressed to them, Catherine, and Grissom, but Greg was gone.
“Where's Greg?” Sara asked to no one in particular, taking the folder addressed to her.
“He might be in the break room,” Nick replied, looking through the contents of his own folder. They all found their results, plus a briefly typed explanation. “Looks like this'll be enough to convict our guy.”
“Sure seems that way,” Warrick said, closing his folder. “C'mon, let's go get Brass and have a chat with our new friend.” The two men left as Catherine came in.
“I take it Greg's in the break room?” She said.
”Yeah, what's wrong with him, anyway? Did he inhale fumes or something?” Sara asked.
Catherine shook her head. “No, he says it's just a stomach bug. Besides, knowing our Greggo, he'll be bouncing away to one of his obnoxious CDs before Grissom can say, 'No punk rock.'”
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Greg's POV
I was rather relieved when I clocked out and managed to get to my car without the CSIs badgering me. Well, Nick kept on insisting that he should take me home. I was able to put a stop to that after threatening to paint his truck pink and switch all his CDs to rap.
I don't know why I suddenly became sick. Maybe it was something I— no, I haven't eaten since…wow, I can't remember the last time I ate. That can't be good. When I got home, I munched on an orange before going to the couch to take a nap.
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“Greggo, wake up.” I opened my eyes to see Mark squatting near my head. “Hey, want to go clubbing?”
“Not really, I have a headache,” I said softly, rubbing my eyes.
“Here, take this for it.” He held out an aspirin and a bottle of water. “Besides, it's been a while since we went clubbing.”
“Thanks.” See? He's not that bad. I shot the pill down with some water and sat up. “So what club are we going to?” I asked, as I stood up and stretched.
“The Cat House.”
I grinned. That was one of my favorite 24 hour gay clubs. “Alright, give me 20 minutes to get ready.” I headed upstairs to the bathroom and took a quick shower. I carefully styled my hair and used some eyeliner to bring my eyes out. After that, I went to the bedroom and took a satin black button up shirt and tight, navy jeans from the closet.
Mark let out a low whistle as I climbed into his car. “Dam, you look fuckable.”
I leaned over and kissed him lightly. “Let's go, I'm in the mood to party hard.”
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By the time we got into the club, I was instantly out on the dance floor, dancing amongst the other writhing bodies. I grinded my ass into mark when I felt his large hands on my hips. I twisted around and started running my fingers all over him.
Suddenly, my skin was on fire. When Mark started grounding his hips into mine, I could feel the arousal rippling through my skin straight to my cock. It reminded me a lot of being 16 again. I could feel the euphoria running through my veins as we danced away.
Three hours later, Mark and I were sitting with some of his friends chugging down water by the gallon. I stood and gave Mark a short lap dance, before I pressed lips to his ears and said, “I'm going to the bathroom, then I'll come back and give you're a proper lap dance.”
Mark gripped my ass with both hands, kissing me hard. “You better.” At some point when I we were out dancing, I lost my shirt, which seemed to help slip through the sweaty crowd.
It took me a long time to get to the bathroom because I was constantly stopping to watch the colorful bounce off the disco ball and watch the strobe lights go off. When I finally got to the bathroom doors, I pushed them open and ignored the blond, who was getting his brains sucked out through his dick by a gorgeous Asian guy.
After I finished doing my business, I went to the sink to wash my hands. I glanced at my image in the cracked mirror and took another startled look. “What the fuck?!” I whispered. My skin was glistening with sweat (no surprise there considering the temperature) and it was starting to tingle. But, that wasn't what was bothering me. My pupils were dilated.
I was high.
In all honesty, I think that if I hadn't looked in the mirror, I would have probably would have done something stupid and have woken up somewhere unpleasant. Gripping ont the sink, I went over my symptoms, though, I was finding it hard to keep my concentration on the matter.
- My pupils were dilated.
- I was sweating more than normal.
- I felt restless.
- My teeth were starting to chatter.
- My skin was all tingly.
- I was lacking focus.
- And I still felt thirsty even though I drank four bottles of water.
That's when it hit me: I was high on Ecstasy. But, how did I let that happen? I know I finished my drink before I set them down, if I didn't the lid was on and I was holding the bottle. The only thing I had before I left was…the aspirin Mark gave me.
That son of a bitch!! I couldn't believe he did that! I could feel the euphoria change to rage.
Calm down Sanders, I told myself. The best thing to do was leave. I hurriedly left the bathroom and started making my way through the crowd. It took me almost a half hour to get out of there. With my lack of concentration, it was easy for my mind to stray and my eyes to momentarily focus on something else, like the lights or the caress and grinding of hips around me. When I got out of the club, I was bent over, panting.
I took off down the street, knowing Mark was probably looking for me.
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Jodine16: I'm writing up the third chapter, but please don't expect an update anytime soon! Later days!