Monday, May 6 2009 2:15 AM

"Greg! Are you alright!?"

'Are you alright?'

It was a simple question, a stupid one, but a simple one nonetheless.

Whether it was stupid or not, however, was irrelevant, the question had been directed at him and it was meant to be answered. This was nearly impossible though because he couldn't breathe, let alone talk, and it was only because he was trying not to pass out that Greg heard Grissom's voice at all. He swallowed hard and forced himself to open his eyes and look up into the face of his long time friend and colleague. Greg could see worry and fear etched into every line of it. He hated it. He hated to see Grissom, or anyone for that matter, so worried about him. Eyes filled with fear and pity. It was too painful. Greg tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea washed over him so suddenly that he fell back and gasped. He started to choke and cough as his mouth filled with vomit. Someone grabbed his shoulders and forcibly rolled him up on his side as he started to throw up. Acid burned the back of his throat causing him to choke further, but still he vomited, unable to make himself stop.

When he finally finished he was rolled back onto his back.

"Call 911!!" Greg flinched at the sudden shout. "Greg!" he felt Grissom put his hands on his cheeks and turn his face, "Greg look at me!" Greg tried to look, but the tears in his eyes were blurring images that were already fading in and out. Since his throat was burning too much to attempt to speak he raised his right hand and grabbed Grissom's wrist letting the older man know that he could hear and understand him. A sigh of relief told Greg that Grissom had gotten the message.

"Gil I called 911 and they're on their way, how is he?" The voice that came from the door seemed familiar to him, but Greg was so disoriented and exhausted that he couldn't place it.

"He just threw up, is having trouble breathing, and he has a high fever, but he seems to still be conscious," Grissom lifted his right hand form Greg's face and brushed the lab tech's sweaty bangs out of his eyes, "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing though. What's the ETA on the paramedics?"

"Five minutes." Greg felt slight vibrations in the floor of someone quickly walking toward them. The footsteps stopped by his head and suddenly Nick Stokes's face came into view as he lead over, "Hey Greggo," he whispered, "How ya doin'?"

Greg's breathing was getting more and more ragged as he continued struggling to stay conscious, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, "Never… (breath) better…," he gasped. Both Nick and Grissom smiled and Greg managed to smile weakly back. Suddenly his body tensed and his muscles tightened painfully.

"Greg?" Grissom's voice was sharp with concern as he gave him a little shake, "Greg! " Grissom shook a little harder. Greg could feel his hand, still around Grissom's wrist, tighten. His jaw clenched so hard that he was afraid he would break all of his teeth. His eyes rolled back into his head as his back began to arch and slam back into the floor. His muscles started to contract and relax so fast and hard that it took several seconds for anyone to understand what was happening.

"He's convulsing!"

This time Greg could barely process that he had heard a voice let alone tell who it belonged to. The convulsions were excruciatingly painful as his body jerked and flailed making every movement feel as though someone had stuck an electric current into his body. His body slammed into the ground over and over as he desperately tried to regain control, but the spasms kept on coming. A series of sickening cracks that seemed to be coming from the reign of his head echoed in his ears. He wanted to die, if not for anything then just to make the pain go away.

Finally, mercifully, his muscles relaxed and he was able to regain control of himself. He knew that both Nick and Grissom were staring at him in horror. They were waiting to some signs of life from the younger man and Greg knew that now was the time to tell them. He could still feel his hand wrapped tightly around Grissom's wrist, but the seizure had drained him of the last of his energy so he just laid there in agony trying to hold out just a little longer. He couldn't let them call his grandparents; they would find him for sure. There was only one person, apart from his team, that he trusted, and he needed to make sure that he was contacted first. Greg slowly opened his eyes and turned his head so that they met Grissom's. Although he wasn't sure whether he said it out loud or just thought it, a name and number kept echoing in his mind before he passed out. 212-555-0121. Detective Danny Messer.