nickngreg | (no subject)

Nerd Gone Wild
Chapter 3: Close Your Eyes
PG-13, 1848 words

Just a refresher: Chapter 1: Never Had Wings
Chapter 2: The Hurt You Sold

Chapter 3: Close Your Eyes

He bounced his leg nervously; he never really realized how much he hated hospitals. They smelled like… They smelled way too clean for all the blood that spilt and all the people that died there. He didn’t like it; somehow it felt like they were washing over the lives and people that passed through the doors. He laughed a harsh barking sound; washing over and too clean, unintentional pun. And how could he forget the waiting that was forced upon you, perpetually waiting for a doctor, nurse, death, release, something. The other thing he hated was the silence, it crept along the halls, slinking around corners and engulfing you when you weren’t looking. Yeah, hospitals sucked. He would rather not have to see the inside of one for quite some time, unless absolutely necessary. And by absolutely necessary he meant if and only if the job required it and there was no one else to go in his place. The aversion was understandable; Nick knew that his friends would comprehend his reasons without having to vocalize them.

Vaguely he wondered how many people would rather not be here themselves. If he asked any of the ER doctors how many would raise their hand? Could he really blame them? With what they saw every day, it was comparable to some of the things he had seen in his years on the job. How many men, women, children came in bearing some of the worst injuries that could be inflicted upon someone? How many walked out through the doors? How many were wheeled out a different exit? Did any of the doctors remember how many people they had watched or felt pass on, or had the number gotten too great to continue counting?

“Excuse me, Mr. Stokes?”

He snapped out of his reverie. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, it’s just shock. Most people don’t come here every day, and know someone they have a relationship with is in need of our help.” Dr. Terence sat in the chair next to him. “Your friend, Greg, can be released. Physically he is going to be fine, considering the events he is incredibly lucky to come through the way he did. He’s in shock but that is to be expected. Surprisingly his worst injuries are a few broken ribs. There is a laceration near his hairline that required a few stitches, and multiple cuts on his arms and legs. Of course there is bruising and that’s going to be painfully for sometime, but nothing can be done about that. His throat is raw, possibly from screaming. Some juice and tea will help that, and the less he uses his voice for a few days the better. He was agitated while we worked on him, so we administered a sedative to keep him calm. That will wear off in a few hours, so he may seem slightly lethargic and altered until then.” He continued on, “He may have a mild concussion, but it can’t be determined for certain because of the shock. If he becomes unresponsive bring him back. Also, I’ve prescribed eight hundred milligrams of Naprosyn, when tomorrow comes he is going to be in a world of hurt and that will help some. I’m hesitant to give him anything stronger, but any pain he does feel will be manageable.”

“Thanks Doc,” Nick replied, rising and shaking his hand. “Thanks for all your help tonight.”

Dr. Terence smiled, “Don’t worry about it; it’s what I’m here for. An orderly will wheel Mr. Sanders out in a minute. Hope the rest of your night is uneventful.”

“Yours too.” He replied. He knew that Dr. Terence was one of the few that remembered not only how many he had seen pass, but their names and faces. He was one of the good ones, the ones that did this day in and day out for the love of his work.

Greg was slightly slumped in the wheelchair when the orderly rolled him out. His eyes were shrouded in a half lidded stare beneath sparkly lashes. Even though his eyes were half closed, Nick could see the vacant hollow look they held. A bruise had begun to blossom across his cheek and the white butterfly bandage protecting the stitches on his head stood out in stark contrast. White bandages were taped to his forearm, and also on various places on his legs. His knees were scuffed like a little child’s, and in his state he seemed so much younger than he was. He nodded his thanks to orderly and took hold of the chair, directing it towards the pharmacy to fill Greg’s prescription.

He hadn’t stirred the entire time it took for them to visit the pharmacist, roll out the doors or over to Nick’s car. If he heard Nick when he said it was time to move and that he was sorry if he jostled him too much he showed no reaction. It was as if he had checked out and was off in his own little reality, but silently accepting of events in this reality. He was easily manipulated into the passenger seat, and buckled up. And that disturbed Nick, but on some other level he realized it was normal, shock affected everyone differently and some people just have to turn themselves off for a little while so they could internally sort themselves out. After he closed the door gently so as to not scare him, he pulled out his cell phone.

“Hey Gris, it’s me. Yeah, we just got out of the hospital. He’s pretty good all things considered; some broken ribs, cuts and bruises, but nothing major. They had to sedate him during treatment so he’s kind of out of it for the time being… I’m going to take him home and then I’ll be in to help… You sure? Cause I can come in, it’s no problem to me… I suppose. I’ll stay with him at least until he gets his head back together. I’ll give you a call later.” Closing his phone he sighed, he knew Grissom was right; he shouldn’t come back to the scene this early. On the other hand he knew someone had to take care of Greg at least until his head cleared. Taking a deep breath he got into his car, “Time to go home.” he murmured to his passenger.

The scenery passed by in a blur of colours, only coming to focus every few stop lights or so. Greg’s gaze was directed out the window, but he doubted anything was registering in his mind. It was eerie to sit next to the man and not hear a word tumble from his lips, for he was rarely ever silent except lately. He’d been a little quieter recently, ever since the unfortunate incident. But then everyone had become a little more introspective, a little more cautious, a little more reserved. They were probably just sorting out the laundry, as his grandmother would say, and sometimes the washing took a little longer with some people.

“Hey Greg, we’re here.” He said, parking the car in front of his building. “Let’s get you inside.” With extra care he helped him out of the car, wrapping an arm around his waist and letting him lean against him as they made their way inside. It did take him a few tries before he could get the lock to open, mainly due to the weight he was supporting. He was kind of surprised when they finally got in. He had never really seen Greg’s apartment, he had seen the outside of it but never inside. He had some ideas of what his place looked like but this was beyond what he imagined. Muted sea green walls, turquoise leather studio couches, dark blue coffee table littered with books. It was definitely Greg’s style but it purveyed a more tasteful sense, it seemed more sophisticated even if it was still kind of crazy colours. Steadily he guided Greg towards the back of the apartment to where he figured his bedroom was. The first door he tried lead into an office of sorts, hard to tell really by the mess that had taken over the room, though a computer monitor peaked out from behind a pile of stuff. The second door was the right one though.

Carefully he lowered Greg to the queen size bed that sat in the middle of the room. He fumbled in the dimness for a light switch, when he finally flipped it he was taken aback in surprise. One by one, little tiny lights in the ceiling came on, starting from the far corner and fanning out ward like a wave until thousands of blue, purple, white, and teal lights twinkled down at him. He gasped in awe; it must have taken some time to create the ceiling. The feigned twilight was breathtaking, washing everything in soothing blue violet from the curtains hanging from the four poster bed to the glass topped dresser, to the mural spanning the wall facing the bed. It was Van Gogh if he recalled correctly, “Twilight over the Rhone”. He was astounded at the beauty before him, this highly unexpected oasis. “Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

Reluctantly he brought his gaze back to the battered man slouched on the mattress. Kneeling, he unlaced his boots removing them with utmost care, placing them out of the way so that they wouldn’t be tripped over later. Looking up he realized what precisely his friend was wearing and had to bite back a smile. Many preconceptions were being dismissed handily tonight. Rising, he grasped the hem of his shirt. “Arms up Greg,” he said softly. Carefully he pulled his shirt up his torso and over his head discarding it over the foot of the bed. He hissed in a breath, his torso was a massive splotch of angry black and blue. He bit his bottom lip unconsciously, he knew what a broken rib felt like but that, he wagered, could not compare to the pain several broken ribs and a chest that essentially was one giant bruise felt like. With as much delicacy as he could manage he lifted him off the bed, holding him while he turned the covers down. He lowered Greg to the mattress and pressed him gently backwards to rest on the pillow. Sliding an arm beneath his knees he pulled them up and tucked his legs beneath the blanket. He drew up the sheet, and touched his hand gently, giving it a little squeeze. He debated drawing the bed curtains closed, but didn’t know how he might react if he was completely enclosed. So Nick opted for untying the ones on the far side of the bed, letting those nearest the door remain open. With one last glance at Greg, he flipped off the light switch watching as one at a time the lights faded to black and silently went out the door. In the dark one tear slipped a lonely path down a bruised cheek, only one, as brown eyes closed.