Title- Ordinary's Just Not Good Enough Today
Author- pepsicolagurl
Rating- R for subject matter and occasional language
Notes- Standard disclaimer. No affiliation, nothing is owned by me, and I am definitely not seeing any loonies coming my way (or the new ten dollar bill that looks like a coupon...or Canadian Tire money). The title is taken from the Our Lady Peace song, "Superman's Dead", from their CD, "Clumsy". All lyrics came from that song. Other than that...enjoy.
Additional Note- If the characters seem a little...out of character, that's because I'm trying to look at everything through Greg's point of view. This is just how I think he sees everyone, so there may be a few slight differences.
Chapter One
// Do you worry that you're not liked
How long 'till you break
You're happy 'cause you smile
But how much can you fake
An ordinary boy
An ordinary name
But ordinary's just not good enough today //
No one had taken notice of the dark circles under his eyes. Of course, they were almost a part of him now, something that he never thought that he would be rid of. And no one ever noticed how he took to yawning a lot, or rubbing his eyes. They were constantly dry and occasionally itchy, letting him now how long it had been since he had a full nights sleep. Or, in this case, a full days sleep. And no one had commented on how he wasn't paying all that much attention to what he was wearing...it was easier to just reach for jeans and a tee shirt than it was to decide what colors would horribly clash with each other for that day. They didn't notice that his hair was flat now, since he rarely had the energy to even look at the hair gel or any other styling product he used. In fact, no one ever mentioned anything about him.
But he didn't have it as rough as everyone else. He knew that. His job consisted of sitting on the comfortable swivel chair, pushing it from machine to machine, and waiting for print-outs. He didn't have to run from location to location, question suspects, or work on some more tedious jobs, like trying to figure out how to put a broken window back together. If anything, he had it easy. Or, so he thought. Judging by the expression on the man's face, he was about to go out to the woodshed for a verbal whipping.
"Greg?"
His head moved in a nod before he yawned. "Yeah, I know, and I'm-"
"Greg." This time it wasn't a question. It was more of a warning. He quickly shut his mouth and diverted his eyes down to the desk. Why did he suddenly feel like a scolded child? He definitely looked like one at the moment. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"
For a moment, his eyes lit up. Someone had actually noticed that he wasn't himself? That was a surprise. He figured that no one had time to notice. Talk about a warm and fuzzy feeling. "Well...now that you mention it-"
"Obviously not, because you don't make mistakes like this." That warm and fuzzy feeling immediately disappeared. "Maybe it isn't the lack of sleep that's your problem. Maybe if you did the job that you're paid to do rather than listen to music, this wouldn't happen." There was no need to protest. In reality, the CD player that was sitting on the edge of his desk hadn't been touched in a week or so. For all he knew, the batteries were dead, but he wasn't going to open his mouth and stand up for himself. There was no need. He made a mistake, and he knew it. He hadn't made a mistake in a long time. He had been working on a perfect record for the past few months, and he had most certainly never tested the wrong samples. That wasn't even a rookie mistake, in his mind. All the samples had been properly labeled...he had just been too tired to have the words on the label register in his mind. "Your shift ended five minutes ago. Go home, Greg, and when you come in tomorrow, make sure that this doesn't happen. Ever again."
He simply nodded and waited until the man walked out before sighing and closing his eyes. "Sure, Grissom. By the way, I'm sorry," he said sarcastically to the empty room before standing up and shrugging off his lab coat. He walked to the back of the room, where a row of lockers sat, and opened up his, tossing the coat in the bottom without a care in the world. He snatched his off of the hook and slammed the door shut before refastening the lock and spinning the dial a few times.
So, he had made a mistake. He knew that, and he had been dreading the lecture he was going to get from the shift supervisor. The lecture that he had already sat through. And it hadn't seemed like a big deal to anyone but Greg at the time. He had apologized to Catherine, ran the test again, and got her the results that she had wanted. No harm, no foul, right? Wrong, his mind screamed as he pushed his arms through his jacket and started out of the room and down the hallway, avoiding everyone else's eyes.
They all knew. Gossip spread like crazy in the lab, and the worst part was, Greg knew that he couldn't even blame Catherine for what had happened. She wasn't one to gossip, and she hadn't even told Grissom about what had happened. She had come right up to the young man and warned him that "you-know-who is on the warpath because of you-know-what," but she had made herself perfectly clear that she hadn't said a word. He trusted her...there was no reason not to. She had even told him, when he noticed the mistake, that everyone had a bad day and it was nothing to freak out about. Apparently, she hadn't thought of the verbal beat-down that he had already gotten.
With a yawn, he rubbed his eyes and pushed the door open, digging into his jacket pocket for his keys. Was he even in any condition to drive, he asked himself as he unlocked the driver's side door and climbed into the seat of the jeep. No, he probably wasn't, but he also wasn't going to bother anyone for a ride. Besides that, he didn't feel comfortable leaving the most expensive thing he owned in the parking lot. His jeep was his only means of transportation, and the buses didn't run late enough for him to get to work. And he couldn't afford to take a taxi back and forth every day.
Whoever thought that he made a lot of money doing a job that required a lot of detail...well, they were crazy. The pay cheques that he received, immediately transferred to his back account, were barely enough to pay for his rent, his food, and all the rest of his assorted bills. Living alone wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. His parents paid his way through college, and he had lived in the dormitory every single term. But when he moved to Las Vegas, it was like his entire world, the world that he had become accustomed to, turned upside down.
"I just had to be stubborn and refuse their money, didn't I?" he asked himself as he pulled out of his parking space. His parents had offered money, of course, and he turned them down. It was time for him to be on his own, to be self-sufficient. He didn't know at the time that it meant he would be wondering if he could get along without a phone line for a month, because he couldn't afford to pay the bill at the time. Cash advances were frowned upon before they kicked your ass out of the office and laughed at your stupidity, and he knew the people that he worked with well, but not well enough to ask for a small loan from one of them. Not to say that they wouldn't push some money his way. He was sure that they would, and they would know that he would pay them back as soon as possible. He just didn't have the courage to speak up and mention it.
Besides, he thought as he began his twenty minute drive home, it wasn't like any of them were particularly concerned with his well-being or financial situation. They talked to him when they needed results on a test that he would run, and that was it. He had walked into the break room and heard Warrick ask Catherine about how her daughter was doing lately, or Sara tease Nick about how his favorite football team lost their game. They were comfortable around each other, and he was more like an outsider than anything. An outsider that could make them laugh occasionally, but an outsider nonetheless. They never asked him how he was doing, or what he did on his days off. Because he worked in the lab, and they worked out in the field. They saw him many times a night, but they never really SAW him, did they?
It was almost like he was invisible or something. But he was always there when they needed him to be. When they needed an answer. They never gave him credit for a lot of the work that he did. Or, maybe they did, and he just never noticed. He wasn't really sure of anything at the moment. All he was sure of was the fact that he had a nice, soft bed, with nice, soft pillows waiting for him. That was all that mattered.
Another yawn practically ripped his jaw in half as he pulled into his building's parking lot, and turned blindly into his normal space. Even in his half consciousness, he was careful not to scrape the car door beside him with his own as he got out and shut the door somewhat quietly. Some people were still sleeping, and he didn't dare wake up the people that lived below him. Once had been enough, he told himself, thinking back to the screams of protest from downstairs.
He walked around the parking lot, keeping his feet on the cement as he looked down at the gravel that seemed to be everywhere at the complex. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he walked through that instead...but that idea disappeared quickly when he looked towards the window and saw the curtains shut tightly. Instead, he started up the steep set of stairs that led to the second landing. His eyes had been on the door on the left, and he looked over sharply when the door on the right slammed shut. He knew there was no way to avoid the slam...every door in the complex seemed to slam loudly...but he couldn't fault the kid that was standing on the carpet between the doors, looking at him.
Forcing a smile on his face, he waved at her. "Good morning, Annie. Are you heading off to school?" he asked as he climbed the last few steps.
The solemn little girl nodded. "Uh huh." She was silent for a moment, before she smiled slightly. "Good morning, Greg," she added, as if she had just remembered her manners.
His eyes went back towards the door, expecting to see her mother or father walk out, to take her down the road and across the street to the bus stop. "Isn't your mom walking you this morning?"
Her head shook, causing her wild hair to whip around her face. "She's still asleep." Before he could ask the next question, she continued. "Daddy didn't come home last night."
Despite how tired he was, he walked over to her and motioned for her to sit down on the top step and hand over her backpack. "Well, do you mind if I walk you down to the bus this morning?" he asked, as he put her tiny pink backpack off to the side and opened the smaller compartment on it, taking out the brush and hair ties that were inside. This wasn't the first time that it had happened, and he knew that it would happen many more times. The truth was, her mother wasn't asleep, but passed out in the master bedroom, and her father probably hadn't come home, like she had said. He had heard them fight many times before, and every time they did, he couldn't help but wonder what was happening to the little girl that was usually on the swing set in the afternoon.
He was careful as he brushed out her hair, something that her mother usually did, and quickly braided it into two pigtails before standing up and helping her put on the pink backpack again. "All right, let's go or we're going to miss your bus," he told her, as Annie took his outstretched hand to help her down the stairs on the other side. The girl chatted happily as he took her down the street and across to the other corner, where a large group of kids, the younger ones with their parents, were waiting.
The bus came soon, and he waved good-bye to Annie as she climbed up the stairs before sighing and turning around to walk back to his apartment, the smile dropping from his face. His eyes were squinted from the early morning sun, and he stumbled as he turned towards the stairs. Greg stopped for a moment and frowned, looking down. There was nothing for him to stumble on, he thought to himself before shaking his head.
"You have problems. Big ones," he told himself as he climbed back up the stairs and to the door, taking his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. He heard the brisk snap that he had become accustomed to, and stepped into the cool apartment, shutting the door and locking both the knob and the deadbolt before throwing his keys on the kitchen counter. He stopped in the doorway for a moment, debating whether or not he should eat before he slept. His stomach rolled at the thought of food, and he turned instead towards the one bedroom, looking at the mess he had left over the past few days.
The little bit of energy he had left was used to take off his shirt and kick off his pants before climbing underneath the covers of his small bed, closing his eyes the moment his head hit the pillow. A few seconds later, he was asleep.
**********
His hand reached out, trying to find the button to shut off his alarm before his eyes snapped open in the darkness, looking around. It wasn't his alarm that was ringing...it would have done that five hours ago...but the phone beside the alarm clock. Rubbing his eyes, he turned on the lamp beside the bed and looked down at the Caller Identification box, before groaning and looking to see what time it was.
"Shit!" he exclaimed. "No wonder Grissom is calling, I'm twenty minutes late." Greg practically tripped over the jeans he had left on the floor that morning as the phone stopped ringing. The least he could do was let Grissom think that he was on his way, he thought to himself as he reached down and pulled on the jeans he had worn yesterday, and snatched a shirt from the corner of the room as he ran into the bathroom.
Less than five minutes later, he was out and running for his running shoes, pulling them on and leaving the laces untied as he picked up his keys and let himself out the door, stopping only long enough to lock it before it slammed shut behind him. He ran down the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet as he turned and raced towards his car.
Within seconds, he was driving down the road, cursing himself every few seconds. His foot pressed down the gas pedal, and he ignored all the traffic signs, hoping to cut about five minutes off of his time. He managed to get by without a police car stopping him for speeding, and he pulled into the parking lot, barely stopping to lock up his vehicle as he jogged towards the door, and racing down the hallway towards the lab. He saw Grissom down the hall, with his back to Greg, talking to someone.
Thanking whoever it was up there that was looking over him, he opened the door and let himself into the lab, hurriedly opening his locker as he ignored the looks he was getting from everyone. He threw his jacket in there and took his lab coat, slipping it over his shirt and clipping his photo identification on it before slamming the door shut and locking it, racing over to his usual chair.
"A little late, Sanders?"
"Oh, shut up," he mumbled under his breath as he pulled a pair of surgical gloves out of the box on the counter and pulled them over his hands, reaching for the samples that had been left on his desk to process. He looked up when the door opened, and he plastered a smile on his face. "Hey, Grissom."
The man crossed his arms and looked down at him. "Greg. You're a little late, don't you think?"
He nodded, letting out the breath he was holding as he tore into one of the envelopes, taking out a blood sample. He started to copy down the notes on the envelope and on the vial to a form in front of him. "Just a little." His mind started to race as he tried to come up with an excuse. "There was a problem with-"
"Your alarm clock. I gathered that much," he continued, deadly serious. He opened his mouth to say something, as the door opened again, and Nick Stokes walked in, looking at the two of them. "At the end of your shift, I want to see you in my office." Greg nodded as he walked out, before sighing and falling back in his chair.
Nick raised an eyebrow as he looked towards him. "You know, if you came in on time, you wouldn't get a lecture."
"Thanks for the information," Greg shot back sarcastically, before shaking his head at the surprised looks he was getting. "What do you need, Nick?"
The man nodded. "I wanted to know if you finished with that semen sample I left here yesterday, that's all."
He put down what he was doing, and turned to look through the stack of results on the corner of his desk. "You got a name for me?" Turning to look at Nick, he shook his head slightly. "You know, a name that would be on the sample. Or something that I could use to find it."
Nick frowned. "You usually keep track of this stuff. It should be under Stewart." Greg turned away and started to dig through the stack again, before finding the sheet that he was looking for, passing it over. "Thanks, man. Are you sure that you didn't make a mistake on this?" he asked cheekily before walking out with a chuckle.
He stared after him, before shaking his head. Oh, that was all he needed to hear.
**********
Greg bounced the apple that he had stolen out of the break room in one hand, trying to decide what to do. It would be so easy for him to just slip out the door and pretend that he forgot that he was supposed to go to Grissom's office. Then again, he knew that he wasn't in high school anymore, and this wasn't like leaving the school before the principal could sit him down and lecture him about some prank that had been pulled. This was his job, Greg thought to himself as he took a bite of the apple and started down the hallway. He couldn't just run from all of his responsibilities now.
But it sure seemed like a good idea.
He had eaten half of the apple when he knocked on Grissom's closed door. That, by itself, was a surprise. It was almost always open, as far back as Greg could remember. The only time that it was closed was when he wasn't there...maybe there was hope yet. And he could have just been imagining that voice that told him to come him, he thought glumly as he stepped in and shut the door behind him. He walked towards the chair that was in front of the desk and sat down, flashbacks from all those meetings with his high school principal coming back. He caught the supervisor's look, and he smiled slightly. "Sorry, but I didn't have time to eat anything tonight. I spent my break trying to catch up on all the paperwork," he said, before taking another bite of the apple and leaning back.
"And just why do you think that you had to spend your break, catching up on all that paperwork?" He wondered if he was going to get a full sentence out, but judging by the way his last few conversations with Grissom had gone, he highly doubted it. "Greg?"
"Probably because I've had so many samples and tests to run, I don't have time to finish all the paperwork," he answered honestly. It was true. Every time he finished with one set of tests, and he settled down to complete the paperwork that would go in the file, someone dropped by with another sample for him, and the paperwork had been forgotten. It had been like that since the first day that he had started to work there. No one had complained before that the paperwork coming from him was rather slow, but it was always in there, and he usually logged in a few hours of overtime a month to finish up on everything that he hadn't done.
Grissom nodded at his explanation. "Or could it have been because you were late today?"
He didn't like the way that this was heading, but he couldn't stop himself from snapping back at him. "I was a half hour late. The world didn't stop turning because of that," he shot at him, before shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm not feeling that well today."
"You had an excuse at the beginning of this shift. What was it?"
He opened his mouth to recite the story that he had thought up, about there being some problem with his neighbor, before he shook his head. "I slept through the alarm, that's all," he said quietly, before leaning forward to drop the rest of the apple in the garbage can. It was going to be picked up in an hour, so there wasn't that much a concern about it. "I'm sorry. I know I set it, I just didn't wake up in time," he lied. The one hand that was hidden under his lab coat had crossed fingers.
For a moment, the older man didn't say anything. He examined him, and then shook his head, sitting back. "Greg, you made a ridiculous mistake the other day...one that could have let a guilty man go free. And today, you're late because you slept through your alarm? That isn't acceptable." The crossed fingers weren't helping very much, he thought ruefully. "I'm going to apply the three strikes rule to this. You already have two."
"Do balls count?" he asked, catching onto the baseball reference.
"Let's put it this way, Greg. I want nothing but home runs from you, all right? One more screw-up, and I'll have no choice but to suspend you for two weeks until you can get your act together." He paused and looked at him. "You're the best lab technician that we have. Don't make me suspend you."
He nodded and stood up. "Sure, Grissom," he said quietly. "Is that everything?"
He was excused quickly, and walked back to the lab slowly, thinking about what he had said. As if the lecture hadn't been embarrassing enough, he almost resented the remark about the 'home runs'. The message was clear enough, but it still hurt. He wasn't some sort of machine that just churned out the right answers to all of their questions. Everyone made mistakes, he told himself, shaking his head as he let himself back into the lab and walked over to his locker. Switching his lab coat for his jacket, he turned away, not even realizing that he left his locker open as he walked back out.
Turning his head, he looked back down the hallway in the direction of Grissom's office, before he sighed. This definitely wasn't his week.
Author- pepsicolagurl
Rating- R for subject matter and occasional language
Notes- Standard disclaimer. No affiliation, nothing is owned by me, and I am definitely not seeing any loonies coming my way (or the new ten dollar bill that looks like a coupon...or Canadian Tire money). The title is taken from the Our Lady Peace song, "Superman's Dead", from their CD, "Clumsy". All lyrics came from that song. Other than that...enjoy.
Additional Note- If the characters seem a little...out of character, that's because I'm trying to look at everything through Greg's point of view. This is just how I think he sees everyone, so there may be a few slight differences.
Chapter One
// Do you worry that you're not liked
How long 'till you break
You're happy 'cause you smile
But how much can you fake
An ordinary boy
An ordinary name
But ordinary's just not good enough today //
No one had taken notice of the dark circles under his eyes. Of course, they were almost a part of him now, something that he never thought that he would be rid of. And no one ever noticed how he took to yawning a lot, or rubbing his eyes. They were constantly dry and occasionally itchy, letting him now how long it had been since he had a full nights sleep. Or, in this case, a full days sleep. And no one had commented on how he wasn't paying all that much attention to what he was wearing...it was easier to just reach for jeans and a tee shirt than it was to decide what colors would horribly clash with each other for that day. They didn't notice that his hair was flat now, since he rarely had the energy to even look at the hair gel or any other styling product he used. In fact, no one ever mentioned anything about him.
But he didn't have it as rough as everyone else. He knew that. His job consisted of sitting on the comfortable swivel chair, pushing it from machine to machine, and waiting for print-outs. He didn't have to run from location to location, question suspects, or work on some more tedious jobs, like trying to figure out how to put a broken window back together. If anything, he had it easy. Or, so he thought. Judging by the expression on the man's face, he was about to go out to the woodshed for a verbal whipping.
"Greg?"
His head moved in a nod before he yawned. "Yeah, I know, and I'm-"
"Greg." This time it wasn't a question. It was more of a warning. He quickly shut his mouth and diverted his eyes down to the desk. Why did he suddenly feel like a scolded child? He definitely looked like one at the moment. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"
For a moment, his eyes lit up. Someone had actually noticed that he wasn't himself? That was a surprise. He figured that no one had time to notice. Talk about a warm and fuzzy feeling. "Well...now that you mention it-"
"Obviously not, because you don't make mistakes like this." That warm and fuzzy feeling immediately disappeared. "Maybe it isn't the lack of sleep that's your problem. Maybe if you did the job that you're paid to do rather than listen to music, this wouldn't happen." There was no need to protest. In reality, the CD player that was sitting on the edge of his desk hadn't been touched in a week or so. For all he knew, the batteries were dead, but he wasn't going to open his mouth and stand up for himself. There was no need. He made a mistake, and he knew it. He hadn't made a mistake in a long time. He had been working on a perfect record for the past few months, and he had most certainly never tested the wrong samples. That wasn't even a rookie mistake, in his mind. All the samples had been properly labeled...he had just been too tired to have the words on the label register in his mind. "Your shift ended five minutes ago. Go home, Greg, and when you come in tomorrow, make sure that this doesn't happen. Ever again."
He simply nodded and waited until the man walked out before sighing and closing his eyes. "Sure, Grissom. By the way, I'm sorry," he said sarcastically to the empty room before standing up and shrugging off his lab coat. He walked to the back of the room, where a row of lockers sat, and opened up his, tossing the coat in the bottom without a care in the world. He snatched his off of the hook and slammed the door shut before refastening the lock and spinning the dial a few times.
So, he had made a mistake. He knew that, and he had been dreading the lecture he was going to get from the shift supervisor. The lecture that he had already sat through. And it hadn't seemed like a big deal to anyone but Greg at the time. He had apologized to Catherine, ran the test again, and got her the results that she had wanted. No harm, no foul, right? Wrong, his mind screamed as he pushed his arms through his jacket and started out of the room and down the hallway, avoiding everyone else's eyes.
They all knew. Gossip spread like crazy in the lab, and the worst part was, Greg knew that he couldn't even blame Catherine for what had happened. She wasn't one to gossip, and she hadn't even told Grissom about what had happened. She had come right up to the young man and warned him that "you-know-who is on the warpath because of you-know-what," but she had made herself perfectly clear that she hadn't said a word. He trusted her...there was no reason not to. She had even told him, when he noticed the mistake, that everyone had a bad day and it was nothing to freak out about. Apparently, she hadn't thought of the verbal beat-down that he had already gotten.
With a yawn, he rubbed his eyes and pushed the door open, digging into his jacket pocket for his keys. Was he even in any condition to drive, he asked himself as he unlocked the driver's side door and climbed into the seat of the jeep. No, he probably wasn't, but he also wasn't going to bother anyone for a ride. Besides that, he didn't feel comfortable leaving the most expensive thing he owned in the parking lot. His jeep was his only means of transportation, and the buses didn't run late enough for him to get to work. And he couldn't afford to take a taxi back and forth every day.
Whoever thought that he made a lot of money doing a job that required a lot of detail...well, they were crazy. The pay cheques that he received, immediately transferred to his back account, were barely enough to pay for his rent, his food, and all the rest of his assorted bills. Living alone wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. His parents paid his way through college, and he had lived in the dormitory every single term. But when he moved to Las Vegas, it was like his entire world, the world that he had become accustomed to, turned upside down.
"I just had to be stubborn and refuse their money, didn't I?" he asked himself as he pulled out of his parking space. His parents had offered money, of course, and he turned them down. It was time for him to be on his own, to be self-sufficient. He didn't know at the time that it meant he would be wondering if he could get along without a phone line for a month, because he couldn't afford to pay the bill at the time. Cash advances were frowned upon before they kicked your ass out of the office and laughed at your stupidity, and he knew the people that he worked with well, but not well enough to ask for a small loan from one of them. Not to say that they wouldn't push some money his way. He was sure that they would, and they would know that he would pay them back as soon as possible. He just didn't have the courage to speak up and mention it.
Besides, he thought as he began his twenty minute drive home, it wasn't like any of them were particularly concerned with his well-being or financial situation. They talked to him when they needed results on a test that he would run, and that was it. He had walked into the break room and heard Warrick ask Catherine about how her daughter was doing lately, or Sara tease Nick about how his favorite football team lost their game. They were comfortable around each other, and he was more like an outsider than anything. An outsider that could make them laugh occasionally, but an outsider nonetheless. They never asked him how he was doing, or what he did on his days off. Because he worked in the lab, and they worked out in the field. They saw him many times a night, but they never really SAW him, did they?
It was almost like he was invisible or something. But he was always there when they needed him to be. When they needed an answer. They never gave him credit for a lot of the work that he did. Or, maybe they did, and he just never noticed. He wasn't really sure of anything at the moment. All he was sure of was the fact that he had a nice, soft bed, with nice, soft pillows waiting for him. That was all that mattered.
Another yawn practically ripped his jaw in half as he pulled into his building's parking lot, and turned blindly into his normal space. Even in his half consciousness, he was careful not to scrape the car door beside him with his own as he got out and shut the door somewhat quietly. Some people were still sleeping, and he didn't dare wake up the people that lived below him. Once had been enough, he told himself, thinking back to the screams of protest from downstairs.
He walked around the parking lot, keeping his feet on the cement as he looked down at the gravel that seemed to be everywhere at the complex. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he walked through that instead...but that idea disappeared quickly when he looked towards the window and saw the curtains shut tightly. Instead, he started up the steep set of stairs that led to the second landing. His eyes had been on the door on the left, and he looked over sharply when the door on the right slammed shut. He knew there was no way to avoid the slam...every door in the complex seemed to slam loudly...but he couldn't fault the kid that was standing on the carpet between the doors, looking at him.
Forcing a smile on his face, he waved at her. "Good morning, Annie. Are you heading off to school?" he asked as he climbed the last few steps.
The solemn little girl nodded. "Uh huh." She was silent for a moment, before she smiled slightly. "Good morning, Greg," she added, as if she had just remembered her manners.
His eyes went back towards the door, expecting to see her mother or father walk out, to take her down the road and across the street to the bus stop. "Isn't your mom walking you this morning?"
Her head shook, causing her wild hair to whip around her face. "She's still asleep." Before he could ask the next question, she continued. "Daddy didn't come home last night."
Despite how tired he was, he walked over to her and motioned for her to sit down on the top step and hand over her backpack. "Well, do you mind if I walk you down to the bus this morning?" he asked, as he put her tiny pink backpack off to the side and opened the smaller compartment on it, taking out the brush and hair ties that were inside. This wasn't the first time that it had happened, and he knew that it would happen many more times. The truth was, her mother wasn't asleep, but passed out in the master bedroom, and her father probably hadn't come home, like she had said. He had heard them fight many times before, and every time they did, he couldn't help but wonder what was happening to the little girl that was usually on the swing set in the afternoon.
He was careful as he brushed out her hair, something that her mother usually did, and quickly braided it into two pigtails before standing up and helping her put on the pink backpack again. "All right, let's go or we're going to miss your bus," he told her, as Annie took his outstretched hand to help her down the stairs on the other side. The girl chatted happily as he took her down the street and across to the other corner, where a large group of kids, the younger ones with their parents, were waiting.
The bus came soon, and he waved good-bye to Annie as she climbed up the stairs before sighing and turning around to walk back to his apartment, the smile dropping from his face. His eyes were squinted from the early morning sun, and he stumbled as he turned towards the stairs. Greg stopped for a moment and frowned, looking down. There was nothing for him to stumble on, he thought to himself before shaking his head.
"You have problems. Big ones," he told himself as he climbed back up the stairs and to the door, taking his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. He heard the brisk snap that he had become accustomed to, and stepped into the cool apartment, shutting the door and locking both the knob and the deadbolt before throwing his keys on the kitchen counter. He stopped in the doorway for a moment, debating whether or not he should eat before he slept. His stomach rolled at the thought of food, and he turned instead towards the one bedroom, looking at the mess he had left over the past few days.
The little bit of energy he had left was used to take off his shirt and kick off his pants before climbing underneath the covers of his small bed, closing his eyes the moment his head hit the pillow. A few seconds later, he was asleep.
**********
His hand reached out, trying to find the button to shut off his alarm before his eyes snapped open in the darkness, looking around. It wasn't his alarm that was ringing...it would have done that five hours ago...but the phone beside the alarm clock. Rubbing his eyes, he turned on the lamp beside the bed and looked down at the Caller Identification box, before groaning and looking to see what time it was.
"Shit!" he exclaimed. "No wonder Grissom is calling, I'm twenty minutes late." Greg practically tripped over the jeans he had left on the floor that morning as the phone stopped ringing. The least he could do was let Grissom think that he was on his way, he thought to himself as he reached down and pulled on the jeans he had worn yesterday, and snatched a shirt from the corner of the room as he ran into the bathroom.
Less than five minutes later, he was out and running for his running shoes, pulling them on and leaving the laces untied as he picked up his keys and let himself out the door, stopping only long enough to lock it before it slammed shut behind him. He ran down the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet as he turned and raced towards his car.
Within seconds, he was driving down the road, cursing himself every few seconds. His foot pressed down the gas pedal, and he ignored all the traffic signs, hoping to cut about five minutes off of his time. He managed to get by without a police car stopping him for speeding, and he pulled into the parking lot, barely stopping to lock up his vehicle as he jogged towards the door, and racing down the hallway towards the lab. He saw Grissom down the hall, with his back to Greg, talking to someone.
Thanking whoever it was up there that was looking over him, he opened the door and let himself into the lab, hurriedly opening his locker as he ignored the looks he was getting from everyone. He threw his jacket in there and took his lab coat, slipping it over his shirt and clipping his photo identification on it before slamming the door shut and locking it, racing over to his usual chair.
"A little late, Sanders?"
"Oh, shut up," he mumbled under his breath as he pulled a pair of surgical gloves out of the box on the counter and pulled them over his hands, reaching for the samples that had been left on his desk to process. He looked up when the door opened, and he plastered a smile on his face. "Hey, Grissom."
The man crossed his arms and looked down at him. "Greg. You're a little late, don't you think?"
He nodded, letting out the breath he was holding as he tore into one of the envelopes, taking out a blood sample. He started to copy down the notes on the envelope and on the vial to a form in front of him. "Just a little." His mind started to race as he tried to come up with an excuse. "There was a problem with-"
"Your alarm clock. I gathered that much," he continued, deadly serious. He opened his mouth to say something, as the door opened again, and Nick Stokes walked in, looking at the two of them. "At the end of your shift, I want to see you in my office." Greg nodded as he walked out, before sighing and falling back in his chair.
Nick raised an eyebrow as he looked towards him. "You know, if you came in on time, you wouldn't get a lecture."
"Thanks for the information," Greg shot back sarcastically, before shaking his head at the surprised looks he was getting. "What do you need, Nick?"
The man nodded. "I wanted to know if you finished with that semen sample I left here yesterday, that's all."
He put down what he was doing, and turned to look through the stack of results on the corner of his desk. "You got a name for me?" Turning to look at Nick, he shook his head slightly. "You know, a name that would be on the sample. Or something that I could use to find it."
Nick frowned. "You usually keep track of this stuff. It should be under Stewart." Greg turned away and started to dig through the stack again, before finding the sheet that he was looking for, passing it over. "Thanks, man. Are you sure that you didn't make a mistake on this?" he asked cheekily before walking out with a chuckle.
He stared after him, before shaking his head. Oh, that was all he needed to hear.
**********
Greg bounced the apple that he had stolen out of the break room in one hand, trying to decide what to do. It would be so easy for him to just slip out the door and pretend that he forgot that he was supposed to go to Grissom's office. Then again, he knew that he wasn't in high school anymore, and this wasn't like leaving the school before the principal could sit him down and lecture him about some prank that had been pulled. This was his job, Greg thought to himself as he took a bite of the apple and started down the hallway. He couldn't just run from all of his responsibilities now.
But it sure seemed like a good idea.
He had eaten half of the apple when he knocked on Grissom's closed door. That, by itself, was a surprise. It was almost always open, as far back as Greg could remember. The only time that it was closed was when he wasn't there...maybe there was hope yet. And he could have just been imagining that voice that told him to come him, he thought glumly as he stepped in and shut the door behind him. He walked towards the chair that was in front of the desk and sat down, flashbacks from all those meetings with his high school principal coming back. He caught the supervisor's look, and he smiled slightly. "Sorry, but I didn't have time to eat anything tonight. I spent my break trying to catch up on all the paperwork," he said, before taking another bite of the apple and leaning back.
"And just why do you think that you had to spend your break, catching up on all that paperwork?" He wondered if he was going to get a full sentence out, but judging by the way his last few conversations with Grissom had gone, he highly doubted it. "Greg?"
"Probably because I've had so many samples and tests to run, I don't have time to finish all the paperwork," he answered honestly. It was true. Every time he finished with one set of tests, and he settled down to complete the paperwork that would go in the file, someone dropped by with another sample for him, and the paperwork had been forgotten. It had been like that since the first day that he had started to work there. No one had complained before that the paperwork coming from him was rather slow, but it was always in there, and he usually logged in a few hours of overtime a month to finish up on everything that he hadn't done.
Grissom nodded at his explanation. "Or could it have been because you were late today?"
He didn't like the way that this was heading, but he couldn't stop himself from snapping back at him. "I was a half hour late. The world didn't stop turning because of that," he shot at him, before shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm not feeling that well today."
"You had an excuse at the beginning of this shift. What was it?"
He opened his mouth to recite the story that he had thought up, about there being some problem with his neighbor, before he shook his head. "I slept through the alarm, that's all," he said quietly, before leaning forward to drop the rest of the apple in the garbage can. It was going to be picked up in an hour, so there wasn't that much a concern about it. "I'm sorry. I know I set it, I just didn't wake up in time," he lied. The one hand that was hidden under his lab coat had crossed fingers.
For a moment, the older man didn't say anything. He examined him, and then shook his head, sitting back. "Greg, you made a ridiculous mistake the other day...one that could have let a guilty man go free. And today, you're late because you slept through your alarm? That isn't acceptable." The crossed fingers weren't helping very much, he thought ruefully. "I'm going to apply the three strikes rule to this. You already have two."
"Do balls count?" he asked, catching onto the baseball reference.
"Let's put it this way, Greg. I want nothing but home runs from you, all right? One more screw-up, and I'll have no choice but to suspend you for two weeks until you can get your act together." He paused and looked at him. "You're the best lab technician that we have. Don't make me suspend you."
He nodded and stood up. "Sure, Grissom," he said quietly. "Is that everything?"
He was excused quickly, and walked back to the lab slowly, thinking about what he had said. As if the lecture hadn't been embarrassing enough, he almost resented the remark about the 'home runs'. The message was clear enough, but it still hurt. He wasn't some sort of machine that just churned out the right answers to all of their questions. Everyone made mistakes, he told himself, shaking his head as he let himself back into the lab and walked over to his locker. Switching his lab coat for his jacket, he turned away, not even realizing that he left his locker open as he walked back out.
Turning his head, he looked back down the hallway in the direction of Grissom's office, before he sighed. This definitely wasn't his week.