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finally decided to make a part 2 Season 5 - 9 Greg still bringing the good vibes
season 1 - 4 here
glove up
He had worn the mask, as instructed in the protocol when sorting out evidence under the fume hood.
But…perhaps the fumes were too strong. Perhaps the mask was up too high, digging into the bags under his eyes.
Perhaps it was the quick look into the glass in front of him that reminded him how he was trapped in a box just like those baby rats were, writhing and tearing his shirt apart to self-suffocate, just like he did with the mask, to prevent the infiltration of ants and the life threatening venom they would inject into him at the price of the free flowing air that he nearly shot himself in the foot to get—though given that it was that shot into the light that caused the ants to come marching into the box, he still ended up shooting himself in the foot anyway.
Or perhaps, he was just simply annoyed as he flung the mask off, tossed it aside and found that the air wasn’t tight, and wasn't poisonous. The fumes were contained and he had nothing to worry about.
“Those look like rat droppings.”
Though, not according to Hodges.
“That’s because they are rat droppings, man,” Nick suddenly regretted calling Hodges, realizing he was now going to complain the whole time, but he had no other choice.
“Are you familiar with the hantavirus?”
Well, he could have called Archie. Or Bobby.
“Carried by rodents, transmitted to humans when they inhale vapors from contaminated urine, saliva or feces.”
Greg was working with them on this case, and could have called him, too.
“That crap will kill you—!”
“Hodges!” Nick cut him off. “Glove. Up.”
“If I start bleeding from my eyeballs, I’m blaming you.”
Nick had to roll his lips in to trap a smile, his annoyance had faded into amusement at Hodges’ protests…
But he helped Nick anyway.
“It’s just some shredded paper and a few pieces of shit, Goose,” Nick told him as he watched Hodges, slowly and exaggeratedly at length, sift through the contents of the box.
“Weren’t you the one who freaked out at very miniscule amounts of uranium, ricin, bats in a cave…”
“Yeah, well, there are worse things you can die from. And we’re sure as hell ain’t gonna die from something as small as a few turds,” Nick held one in between gloved fingers to make his point.
Hodges stepped back, rolling his eyes.
“Would you just! You’re not invincible, man. A-and Grissom isn’t around to save you this time if it goes haywire, which it always does with you.”
“Whatever. I miss him, too.”
“I know. You got to hug him, after all,” Hodges teased and Nick shot him a look that shut him up, for a little bit at least.
Despite the back and forth, Hodges pulled through and still helped. The case was closed. And he didn’t die.
A week later, however, he felt like he was going to die.
There was an equation that he added up the anchor of exhaustion dragging at his feet, the swirling feeling that he was being flushed down the toilet of his stomach by someone he trusted never to pull the lever, and the shuddering chill that made his hunched shoulders feel colder as he walked out of the lab away from what he felt all equaled to the symptoms of just a really bad day.
It wasn’t until he got home that he threw up the first time, all over his coffee table after he tried to settle into his couch to watch some mind-numbing television to unwind.
The second time, all over the wall of his carpeted hallway as he staggered to get a towel to clean his mess up.
The third time, onto the cold tile of his bathroom that he knelt into as he hung over the toilet.
Something was raining down into the toilet out of his eyes.
And it wasn’t tears.
“Hey. Changed your mind, huh?” Warrick chuckled with an air of buzzed smugness on the other line. “I’m hanging at the—”
“War—cuh-cough-rick…” Nick gasped sharply before falling into a fit of coughs.
“You at home?” Warrick’s tone suddenly changed.
“Yuh-huh,” he gulped. He retched. His throat ripped.
“I’m coming, you stay there, you hear me? Unless your ass is in an ambulance.”
Warrick didn’t wait for a response, Nick heard the clattering and crashing of glass before he hung up.
His mouth watered, he could have really used a drink.
Until the anticipated bitter taste of booze made him throw up again.
Just the cherry on top, he thought, and he tried to think of other things, non-vile inducing images like the splatter of blood that’s sure to come out of his lungs with every cough that rattles his lungs, the loss of color in his skin as the life is sucked out of him in tiny phantom pinches from tiny phantom teeth, the way that he was left in the bottom of a swallowing pit by people he thought he could trust with his life—
His nausea didn’t get any better but he had stopped vomiting long enough to start to crawl on the ground like the vermin he was to get a change of clothes.
“Jesus, Nicky,” Warrick’s voice startled him and he flipped over, throwing himself against the wall and his head bounced off the doorframe to his bedroom. “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know,” he cried out in between heavy pants. “I-I think I’m getting better…Stopped…pukin’.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up. You eat something bad? Had a shot of something?”
“No, no, nothing…I wasn’t…Haven’t been feeling good since I left the lab,” Nick admitted. “Wasn’t feeling good at at the lab either, but I thought that was just…the case.”
“I told you to let it go, man. Gonna get yourself sick like this if you work yourself up—”
“Like I don’t know that already!” Nick brushed Warrick off as he staggered to the bathroom. His joints cracked. His knees were about to buckle again.
Warrick lifted him up again, kicked down the toilet seat and sat Nick on it. The cold ceramic did nothing to soothe his clammy skin, his head pulled back and leaning against the wall, he suddenly missed the cushion of the hair that he shaved off.
“I’m not a child, Warrick,” Nick whined as Warrick wet a rag and started to clean his face.
“You sure as hell acted like one throwing a tantrum and stomping out of the lab.”
“It was not that dramatic, dude,” Nick laughed coldly. “Plus, you were angry about it all, too.”
“It’s just a job, man.”
“A job that’s life or death,” Nick grabbed the rag from Warrick and started to clean his own mess up.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Yeah. ‘Pparently ya don’t,” Nick snapped. He winced as he bent over to wipe up the floor before sinking onto it and leaning against the wall.
Warrick left the room, and he didn’t bother calling after him.
He didn’t need his help.
He was fine. He thought he would be fine. He’s going to be fine.
He heard his front door open and slam just like it did minutes ago. Heard a car starting up.
He laughed absurdly, just another person he pissed off in what was nothing more than a job.
He was foolish to think that they were anything more than just co-workers. Foolish to think he was anything more than Catherine’s subordinate, Warrick’s best friend. One day Grissom was going to leave for good and never come back and he’d never see or talk to him again because he was nothing more than his boss, and bosses retire and move on and never go back again.
All the times they helped him, they were just doing their job. Suiting up, gloving up. Following the evidence.
Recovering the body.
The body that at that moment, started to feel compressed, like he was melting into the concrete of the wall behind him and his lungs were drying and shriveling up. It was as if the rag never left his face, gagging his mouth and if he didn’t act soon, something would close his nose too; maybe the dust of the drywall that was pulling his bones out of his skin.
Every breath felt like his last.
He needed to get out before he became a skeleton behind the wall for the graveyard shift to recover.
The thought was powerful enough to somehow find the strength to pull himself up, get to his feet. He nearly fell into the bathroom sink.
He needed help.
He needed somebody he could trust.
Maybe he could catch up to—
“Got your head outta your ass now?” Warrick asked, leaning against the front door with his arms crossed.
“What are you still doin’ here?” Nick swallowed a threatening retch.
“My job. Being your big brother.”
“I’m older than you.”
“Yeah, by a month and a half,” Warrck laughed wryly. “You good?”
As if on cue, Nick collapsed like his lungs did and he fell to the floor. Looking up, he reached a hand out towards Warrick.
“I think I need to go to the hospital now,” Nick’s lips quivered.
“Got the car runnin’,” Warrick nodded.
On their way, they passed by an inflatable rat staged at the side of a street amidst a sea of protesters and sympathetic tourists.
“Rats…Goddamn rats…”
“What?”
“Hentavirus,” Nick moaned. “Hodges…warned me ‘bout it…gotta say sorry.”
“When did you work with rats?”
“Wasn’t…directly, it was…fume hood…pieces of shit…”
“You wore a mask, right?”
Nick shut his eyes, his head lolled against the passenger’s side window.
“Right?” Warrick asked again, jostling Nick’s shoulder to keep him awake. Keep him breathing. His hand lingered and Nick pulled up his hand to fall on top of Warrick’s, incidentally barring his own arm over his neck.
“I-I couldn’t breathe…Quick or slow…” Nick mumbled under Warrick’s sigh.
“Alright, alright…it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” Warrick soothed him as he felt Nick start to panic, his body twitching and trembling and his breathing becoming tighter and hyper.
“I got you,” Warrick reminded him.
Nick couldn’t respond if he wanted to, lost in his own reflection in the glass of the window, wondering when he’d ever be able to escape the transparent coffin.
Sofia Curtis in Every Episode: 7x13 Redrum
"There's a lot of food for a junkie"
My team won’t screw it up.
[It always strikes me the fact that she doesn’t mention Sara.]
CSI 8.12 + 1.04 | 7.07 | 7.13 | 1.13
Greg in every episode of CSI (144 + 145/328) • Sweet Jane / Redrum •
7.13 Redrum
also nick says “this is whack” instead of “this is lame,” as well as pointedly having dust powder all over him and these are the sorts of things I wish we saw
so as I continue to purchase csi scripts off ebay I got the Redrum script and found something interesting:
the way Nick says “I” instead of “we” like he does in the episode…just…makes Redrum feel all the more personal for Nick.
