Author: Lithium – Infected – Shamrock (LIS)

Spoilers: Inside the Box. [important to have seen the episode]

Paring: None [that I can think of…]

Authors note:

Context changes the meaning of everything, seeing something in context, makes it what it is.

If a persons hands shake after an explosion: its posttraumatic stress.

If a persons hands shake at any other time: it could be construed as much more.


It's not like pain. Pain you know you cant control; well, minus pain killers. Pain is good; it has a reason, it warns us, it tells us something is wrong. Like evidence.

Pain is evidence.

Tremors are something else.

They have no meaning; there is no control. They aren't telling us something. You have no control, they happen. You can do nothing about them.

Tremors are like Witness statements. They have no purpose. They just inform something is wrong, rather than alerting us to what is wrong. They're misleading.

Neuromuscular disorders have a thousand different causes. One movement could lead to a thousand different possibilities.

Greg knew this.

The MRI was a scary experience. Going in for a brain scan, and not only having to remove his shirt, because of a metal component. They acted so calmly; this result could determine the rest of his life.

Lying in the scanner, Greg thought of so many things, contemplating every aspect of his life. His thoughts where occasionally interrupted with, "this ones 8 minutes long, keep as still as possible."

Greg didn't even know why they played the music, he couldn't hear it over the noise of the machine, it was like the loudest base notes he'd ever heard.

Base. Music. Lab.

He wondered what they were doing. He'd tried – tried to ask someone to come with him – to tell them – but he couldn't.

How do you tell someone that you have something wrong with you that doesn't have a diagnosis yet?

He felt so isolated; the scanning only enhanced it. The head brace mean he could only see above him. He could barely move – he knew he had to keep still.

So many diseases; Motor Neurone Disease, Parkinson's, Brain Cancer, Brain legions, some form of epilepsy…Greg feared each and every one.

The blood tests weren't so bad. Although hiding the purple/blue bruise it left behind was – wearing long-sleeved shirts wasn't advisable in the heat.

Cholesterol. Electrolytes. Calcium. Magnesium. Liver function. Kidney function. TB…. the list truly did go on and on.

Finally the neurological exam.

And after all the waiting, you find out.


And then they offer you drugs; they offer you drugs without even warning of the side effects.

And you feel so alone.


"It'll stop. If you need me, I'll be around." Grissom said, leaving the room.

He was briefly thankful for the explosion; working around CSI's taught you how to lie convincingly. And he wasn't really lying.

Greg continued to look at his hands. He couldn't control it. He couldn't control part of himself.

And Greg knew it wouldn't stop.

And he felt the sickness deep inside. What happens if this did affect his work?

He closed his eyes, and considered Grissom's offer.


Do I continue?