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well this is my first fanfic ever, so also my first on this forum

i'm pretty good at writing stories, but i've never attempted anything like this before, so it's not that great blushsmiley.gif

but i'm open to criticism and hopefully u enjoy it!! :D

and ya i know the title is really unoriginal, but thats all i could think of, and it seems to fit

i'm a huge fan of csi and i looove greg, hes my fav character, so my first fanfic is about him!

CHAPTER 1

Greg knew for certain that he had never felt worse in his life. A fever had been plaguing him all evening, and he could feel his cheeks flushing and beads of sweat forming at his hairline. He had tried to take his temperature before coming to work, only to be interrupted by either an irritating sneeze or coughing fit. Checking the thermometer anyway, he had read the temperature to be 100.2 F. He had begun to feel a bit better by the time he was driving to work though, so he decided he would just power through his flu.

But now he was beginning to regret it. Heht-CHOOO! Greg sneezed, turning away from the evidence that lay on the lab counter and reaching desperately for the box of tissues. He blew softly and wetly into a handful of tissues, and a string of quiet coughs followed. Once he was convinced that the coughing had been quelled, he slipped on a new pair of latex gloves and went back to work, unbeknownst to the fact that Russell was observing the young CSI’s struggle.

Russell, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, worryingly examined Greg from a distance. He noticed that Greg’s nostrils were raw and pink, his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright with fever. Russell’s eyebrows knitted together with sympathy for the poor young man, and he sighed as he began to make his way over to Greg.

“So Greg,” Russell began when he was next Greg. Greg turned his head slightly with much effort and gave Russell an exhausted and slightly annoyed look. Russell now noticed that the young man was trembling. “How are you feeling?” he asked casually.

Greg might have told Russell the truth, that he felt awful and might collapse right then and there at any given moment. However, he and Morgan were assigned to a case together that night and Greg jumped at the opportunity to get closer to Morgan, despite her apparent disinterest in Greg. The only way I can talk to her alone is if we work on a case together. If I go home, I could miss my chance! Greg thought to himself. Of course, with a raging fever, his judgment was a bit cloudy.

“Uh…yeah, I’m fine! I’m great! I’m—”

“Delirious,” Russell interrupted, as he held the back of Greg’s neck with his left hand and pressed his right against the sick man’s forehead. “Greg, you have a fever,” Russell said with concern. “You need to go home and get some rest.”

“No, I can’t, I…I…” Greg began to protest, furiously shivering.

“Greg, Greg, it’s alright,” Russell placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder in an effort to calm him down. “Nick isn’t too busy right now; I’ll go ask him if he can drive you home.”

At this point Greg knew that protesting would be useless, so he lowered himself into a nearby chair, leaning his elbow on the counter and supporting his throbbing head with his hand.

i hope u liked it... if u do, let me know, and ill try to write more chapters!

i dont really know how long it will be, but i have an idea for the ending

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I don't really watch CSI, but I really like this story! Please continue

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Oh. my. gosh. THANKYOU!!!!!!!! I have waited so long for a Greg!fic, and have even attempted writing one my self, because it just DOESNT exist! He's my ABSOLUTE favourite! Thank you thank you thank you!

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yay! im glad u like it!

CHAPTER 2

Greg let out a pitiful groan as Nick aided the younger man in climbing the five flights of stairs to his apartment. With Greg’s arm across Nick’s shoulder, and Nick’s arm securing Greg’s side, the two CSIs trudged up the stairs.

Nick could see how much Greg’s condition had worsened since they had left the lab. Greg had nearly fallen asleep during the drive home, and every once in a while Nick would notice him tremble and quietly groan.

“Oh man, Greggo! You had to choose to live in an apartment building with a broken elevator? With your room on the fifth floor?”

“Broke last year,” Greg mumbled between short gasps for air. “At least I get a workout; I bet you could tell by my awesome muscles.” Greg began to laugh at his own joke, but was cut short by a harsh coughing fit. His sore eyes, which had begun to loose their comical glow, started to water, and the mucus that inhabited his nose began to dribble. Greg coughed into the crook of one arm and clutched the stairwell railing tightly with his other hand, while Nick steadied him by placing a firm hand on his back. A minute later, the coughing had subsided.

Nick held a hand to Greg’s forehead. “Whoa, you’re burnin’ up there! Come on, we’re almost there.” Nick gently pushed Greg up the last flight of stairs, and Greg pulled a key chain out of his back pocket once they had reached the top. The two men walked down the narrow, linoleum-floored hallway until Greg waved a weak hand over to a door numbered 158.

“This it?” Nick asked, but Greg was already unlocking the door.

“Well, I guess I’m good now,” Greg said weakly and sniffled.

“Nuh, uh,” Nick responded. “I’m takin’ your temperature first. If I don’t, I know you’re not gonna do it, either.” Greg rolled his eyes but trudged to the bathroom while Nick observed the apartment. Unexpectedly clean for Greg’s colorful personality. From where he was standing, Nick could see a small kitchen—also floored with linoleum—and a living room, which contained a blue suede sofa, a wooden coffee table, a floor lamp, and a television set. Of course, Nick had been to Greg’s apartment before, so it was all familiar to him. “So, you hide magazines here, too?” Nick teased once Greg had returned with a digital thermometer.

Greg smiled and stuck the thermometer beneath his tongue. “Yeah, but you won’t find any. I’ve become a master at hiding my…personal property.”

Nick responded with a hearty laugh. “Well, well, Greggo! Challenge accepted!” At that moment the thermometer beeped. “’Kay, let’s see it,” Nick said as he plucked the thermometer from Greg’s mouth. Nick’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. “103 F, that’s pretty high, G.”

“Naw, I’ll be fine,” Greg assured. Nick glanced up at Greg quizzically. “I’ll be fine!” he repeated. “And if I need anything, I promise to call.”

“You sure?” Nick questioned, eying the sick man worriedly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just gonna go to bed and sleep it off. It’s probably just that 24-hour flu that’s going around.”

“Okay, but you call if you need anything.” Nick said.

Greg said goodbye to Nick and closed the door behind him. I guess winning Morgan’s heart with my amazing charm is going to have to wait, Greg thought disappointedly. He swapped his jeans for a pair of gray sweatpants and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin to calm his shivering.

next one will be more interesting, promise! :3

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somehow, someway, morgan needs to find greg in this condition. maybe he sneaks out into the field by feigning wellness in the office, something.... and then let the gooeyness begin!

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Awww I love Greg!!! Sick Greg even more so!!!! Please do more soon!

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  • 2 weeks later...

thank you for all your comments!!

and i just realized i forgot a disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Crime Scene Investigation or any of the characters etc.

sorry chapter 3 took a while, and i know i said more stuff would happen in it, but i promise chapter 4 will be more interesting!!

so here you go!

CHAPTER 3

Greg felt a cool hand gently stroke his forehead. His heart was racing, his head was buzzing, and when he looked to the owner of the gentle hand, he was surprised to see a familiar face. A girl with flowing blond hair and sparkling eyes was looking down at him worriedly.

“Morgan,” he muttered with a whimper.

“Greg,” the woman called out, as if she were a million miles away. “Greg!” The call came again, but now the voice no longer belonged to Morgan, and her image began to fade away. “Hey, Greggo, can you hear me?” Greg now recognized the voice to be Nick’s.

Greg slowly came to and forced his eyes open. “Uuugh…Nick?” he grumbled and pulled himself into a sitting position. “Is it tomorrow yet?”

Nick chuckled. “Yeah, G, it’s tomorrow. You feel any better?”

Greg thought for a moment. “Is Morgan still working that case, the one with the old cat lady?”

“Yeah,” Nick responded. “But she’s tryin’ to dig some dirt up on the old lady’s son. Thinks he mighta needed the money, and since he was her only family…”

“Ca-ching!”

“You got that right! So, you up for coming to work today?”

“Yeah! I feel great!” Greg exclaimed. “Lemme just take a quick shower and grab my stuff.”

“You sure you’re good? Now that I look at you, you are a little pale.” Nick was right. The young CSI’s complexion was indeed lacking its usual brightness and color, and a couple faint, purple rings had begun to reveal themselves beneath Greg’s dulled eyes.

“I’m fine,” Greg insisted as he slipped into the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and started a shower.

“Okay, but take it easy today,” Nick yelled over the pattering of water on tile, while blaming the exhausted appearance of his colleague on the poor lighting. “I’ll just watch TV while you get ready. We got about an hour.”

Inside the bathroom, under the noise of the running shower, Greg collapsed to his knees and rested his head on the cool toilet seat. This isn’t going to work, Greg thought. I’ll pass out before I can even say hello to her. And then what? She isn’t even interested in me anyway! Did I really think she would want a guy like me? He sighed. What’s the point?

At that moment, Nick rattled his knuckles on the bathroom door. “Better make that half an hour,” he shouted. “Just got a call from Morgan. She’s needs you down at the lab ASAP!”

Greg gently lifted his congested head off the toilet and squeezed his sore eyes together as he let out a long, wet cough. He sighed, took a deep breath—or as a deep a breath he could manage without irritating his throat—and pulled himself off the floor. He threw his fever-soaked pajamas onto the counter and climbed into the hot shower. She needs me, he thought. She needs me.

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