NaNo #21 Adrenaline Crash (NCIS:LA)
Nov. 21st, 2011 05:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
miss_lucy21Spoilers for "Betrayal"
:::
G sank back against the wall and cradled his head in his hands. He'd been doing fine- honestly fine- until Deeks had ordered a burger that more closely resembled charcoal than ground beef and G had gotten a whiff of the charred flesh scent. Even then, he'd managed to get up and move casually to the rarely used back bathroom before throwing up what felt like everything he'd eaten in the past week. Now that G's body had decided that turning itself inside out was the appropriate response to his coworker's lunch selection, the fact that he hadn't slept (not even a nap) since Hetty had called him with a message that a body resembling Sam had been found was rapidly catching up to him.
They'd been back from the Sudan for three days. Sam was still debriefing with the CIA (G had been debriefed by Hetty and it had only taken 20 minutes because 1) G was good at relaying information quickly and 2) Hetty didn't ask stupid questions that she could figure out the answers to herself). Which was a fact that G was somewhat thankful for at the moment, because he did not feel like having an audience for what was apparently the beginning of the mother of all adrenaline crashes. His reserves were at an all time low, which made it all the worse. But he was going to have to get up off his ass here in the next minute or so, or someone was likely to notice he'd been gone awhile and come check on him. He took a deep breath and pulled himself up to standing, leaving heavily against the wall for a moment to make sure his stomach wasn't going to protest the change in altitude. It lurched a little, but settled quickly. He pushed off the wall, washed his hands, rinsed out his mouth and splashed a little water on his face. A quick look around to make sure the bathroom was in good shape, and he left the room and went back to his desk.
Deeks and Kensi had thankfully finished their lunches by the time he approached his desk and the charred smell had dissipated. But Kensi looked up at him and said, "You look like you got hit by a truck. Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm good," he said, and sat down, hoping that he could fake his way through the afternoon. An attempt to type in his password with hands that were now shaking disabused him of that notion and he realized that this was not going to get better and it was not going to be put off. He decided to be smart, for once, and just give in. He stood up slowly and made his way to Hetty's office, feeling Kensi's eyes on him the entire way.
Hetty looked up and cocked her head at him as he approached her desk. "I don't feel too good," he admitted to her silent question.
"Yes, I can see that you are not well," Hetty agreed. "Go home. Rest. Are you taking the anti-malaria medication?"
"Yeah," G said. "There's still three days left."
Hetty nodded. "If you feel worse, you will call someone," she directed. "We did not have time to fully prepare you for this trip."
"I'm not really worried about it," G said. He wasn't going to tell her that he'd made sure he was up to date on all of his Africa vaccinations a couple months ago when he'd figured out what Sam was up to. Plus, there had been almost 48 hours between finding out that he was leaving and the time he'd left. That was just about enough time for the anti-malarials to kick in, so he'd been more protected than not. And, besides, he was pretty sure this was adrenaline and that he wasn't actually sick, but he also wasn't going to admit that out loud to anyone.
"I know," Hetty said. "But someone has to be. Go rest," she said, waving her hands at him in dismissal.
"Thanks," he said and went back to his desk to get his bag.
"You going home?" Kensi asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Hold the fort."
"Of course," she said. "Are you ok to drive?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," G said. He did not want to subject his shaky stomach to Kensi's driving, even if he was sure she'd tone it down if she knew he was feeling sick.
"Ok," Kensi said. "If you need something, let me know, ok? Feel better."
"Yeah," Deeks agreed from across the room. "Get better."
"Thanks," he said, smiling a little at them both before leaving Ops.
He'd made the drive home on sheer willpower. Stumbling up his front walk, he managed to catch himself before he face-planted onto the front porch. He got the door unlocked and made it about three steps inside before he had to sit down on the floor. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but he eventually managed to stumble into the small bedroom he'd slept in as a kid. He stripped down to his shorts and burrowed into his bedroll where he laid, letting himself shake.
:::
Some time later, he heard a key in the door and heard Sam call his name from the living room. He didn't respond- wasn't sure he could, actually- and Sam appeared in the doorway a moment later.
"I heard lunch was a bad idea," he said, sitting down on the floor near G's head.
"Would have been fine if Deeks didn't like his burgers extra-well done," G mumbled.
Sam hesitated, then said, "You identified Saleh's body," as though he hadn't been aware of it.
"Thought I was identifying yours," G said, closing his eyes and trying to beat back the gnawing panic he'd been suppressing since he'd gotten Hetty's call. It was pointless now that everything was all right. He shivered and hunkered down further under the covers.
"You running a fever?" Sam asked. G felt a strong hand on his forehead a second later.
"Don't think so," G said, despite Sam's temperature checking. "Just adrenaline, I think."
"Or you picked something up while you were over there," Sam said, pulling his hand away. "You came pretty quickly, from what I hear."
"I was up to date on everything. Did that when I figured out what you were up to," he admitted, opening his eyes to look up at Sam.
"When was that?" Sam asked, surprised.
"That one weekend, this summer, after you'd talked to Nate," G said. "You were worried and you didn't want to leave me alone. If you'd just been going on a weekend trip, like you said, you probably would have cancelled. But you didn't, which meant it was work. Didn't take a lot to figure out that if you were on an op without me then it was probably in the Sudan."
Sam shook his head. "You weren't supposed to know."
"I know that," G said, irritably. "That would be why I didn't say anything about it."
Sam nodded. "Ok," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," G sighed.
"I know you wanted to just get out of there and I kept pushing it," Sam said.
G sighed again. "I understood why you wanted to keep going. I just…" he trailed off, not sure how to explain it.
"You'd just thought I was dead and then when I wasn't, you wanted to get me out of the dangerous situation as quickly as possible," Sam said quietly.
"Yeah," G agreed. He pulled his hand up to rub at his forehead, which was still throbbing with the headache that had started when he'd been throwing up.
"You ok?" Sam asked.
"No," G admitted. "Not really."
Sam frowned, and rested his hand against G's face again. "You're a little warm, but not that bad. But maybe we ought to take you in anyway."
G shook his head. "I don't think I'm sick. I think I'm just really, really tired." The adrenaline shakes had mostly faded, leaving him feeling a little weak and a lot exhausted.
"Ok," Sam said. "But if you get any warmer than that, we're going to the clinic," he added. "I'm not messing around with this if you're sick."
"Fine," G capitulated, closing his eyes again. He was honestly too tired to protest.
"You sure you don't want to sleep in the bed?" Sam asked after a moment. "You'd be more comfortable."
"You just don't want to sit on the floor anymore," G mumbled, not opening his eyes. He was actually plenty comfortable here, but Sam would never understand that he could be as comfortable in his bedroll as he was in the bed.
"Not especially," Sam said. "And I wouldn't object to a nap, either."
"All right," G said. He pushed himself upright and let Sam help drag him to his feet. He could feel Sam watching him closely as he staggered towards the main bedroom where the bed was, but Sam didn't try to steady him. He crawled under the covers and mumbled, "There, happy?"
"Very," Sam said. G could hear him taking off his shoes. "You want some aspirin or something for that headache?"
"No," G said, pushing his face into the pillow. The counter-pressure felt good. "Don't want to throw up again."
"Good point," Sam said. The bed dipped as he laid down next to G. G felt him squirm around to get comfortable, finally ending up on his side with a hand on G's back. "Wake me up when you do, ok?" he said.
"Yeah, ok," G mumbled as he finally let himself drop off to sleep.
ETA Part 2
:::
G sank back against the wall and cradled his head in his hands. He'd been doing fine- honestly fine- until Deeks had ordered a burger that more closely resembled charcoal than ground beef and G had gotten a whiff of the charred flesh scent. Even then, he'd managed to get up and move casually to the rarely used back bathroom before throwing up what felt like everything he'd eaten in the past week. Now that G's body had decided that turning itself inside out was the appropriate response to his coworker's lunch selection, the fact that he hadn't slept (not even a nap) since Hetty had called him with a message that a body resembling Sam had been found was rapidly catching up to him.
They'd been back from the Sudan for three days. Sam was still debriefing with the CIA (G had been debriefed by Hetty and it had only taken 20 minutes because 1) G was good at relaying information quickly and 2) Hetty didn't ask stupid questions that she could figure out the answers to herself). Which was a fact that G was somewhat thankful for at the moment, because he did not feel like having an audience for what was apparently the beginning of the mother of all adrenaline crashes. His reserves were at an all time low, which made it all the worse. But he was going to have to get up off his ass here in the next minute or so, or someone was likely to notice he'd been gone awhile and come check on him. He took a deep breath and pulled himself up to standing, leaving heavily against the wall for a moment to make sure his stomach wasn't going to protest the change in altitude. It lurched a little, but settled quickly. He pushed off the wall, washed his hands, rinsed out his mouth and splashed a little water on his face. A quick look around to make sure the bathroom was in good shape, and he left the room and went back to his desk.
Deeks and Kensi had thankfully finished their lunches by the time he approached his desk and the charred smell had dissipated. But Kensi looked up at him and said, "You look like you got hit by a truck. Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm good," he said, and sat down, hoping that he could fake his way through the afternoon. An attempt to type in his password with hands that were now shaking disabused him of that notion and he realized that this was not going to get better and it was not going to be put off. He decided to be smart, for once, and just give in. He stood up slowly and made his way to Hetty's office, feeling Kensi's eyes on him the entire way.
Hetty looked up and cocked her head at him as he approached her desk. "I don't feel too good," he admitted to her silent question.
"Yes, I can see that you are not well," Hetty agreed. "Go home. Rest. Are you taking the anti-malaria medication?"
"Yeah," G said. "There's still three days left."
Hetty nodded. "If you feel worse, you will call someone," she directed. "We did not have time to fully prepare you for this trip."
"I'm not really worried about it," G said. He wasn't going to tell her that he'd made sure he was up to date on all of his Africa vaccinations a couple months ago when he'd figured out what Sam was up to. Plus, there had been almost 48 hours between finding out that he was leaving and the time he'd left. That was just about enough time for the anti-malarials to kick in, so he'd been more protected than not. And, besides, he was pretty sure this was adrenaline and that he wasn't actually sick, but he also wasn't going to admit that out loud to anyone.
"I know," Hetty said. "But someone has to be. Go rest," she said, waving her hands at him in dismissal.
"Thanks," he said and went back to his desk to get his bag.
"You going home?" Kensi asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Hold the fort."
"Of course," she said. "Are you ok to drive?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," G said. He did not want to subject his shaky stomach to Kensi's driving, even if he was sure she'd tone it down if she knew he was feeling sick.
"Ok," Kensi said. "If you need something, let me know, ok? Feel better."
"Yeah," Deeks agreed from across the room. "Get better."
"Thanks," he said, smiling a little at them both before leaving Ops.
He'd made the drive home on sheer willpower. Stumbling up his front walk, he managed to catch himself before he face-planted onto the front porch. He got the door unlocked and made it about three steps inside before he had to sit down on the floor. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but he eventually managed to stumble into the small bedroom he'd slept in as a kid. He stripped down to his shorts and burrowed into his bedroll where he laid, letting himself shake.
:::
Some time later, he heard a key in the door and heard Sam call his name from the living room. He didn't respond- wasn't sure he could, actually- and Sam appeared in the doorway a moment later.
"I heard lunch was a bad idea," he said, sitting down on the floor near G's head.
"Would have been fine if Deeks didn't like his burgers extra-well done," G mumbled.
Sam hesitated, then said, "You identified Saleh's body," as though he hadn't been aware of it.
"Thought I was identifying yours," G said, closing his eyes and trying to beat back the gnawing panic he'd been suppressing since he'd gotten Hetty's call. It was pointless now that everything was all right. He shivered and hunkered down further under the covers.
"You running a fever?" Sam asked. G felt a strong hand on his forehead a second later.
"Don't think so," G said, despite Sam's temperature checking. "Just adrenaline, I think."
"Or you picked something up while you were over there," Sam said, pulling his hand away. "You came pretty quickly, from what I hear."
"I was up to date on everything. Did that when I figured out what you were up to," he admitted, opening his eyes to look up at Sam.
"When was that?" Sam asked, surprised.
"That one weekend, this summer, after you'd talked to Nate," G said. "You were worried and you didn't want to leave me alone. If you'd just been going on a weekend trip, like you said, you probably would have cancelled. But you didn't, which meant it was work. Didn't take a lot to figure out that if you were on an op without me then it was probably in the Sudan."
Sam shook his head. "You weren't supposed to know."
"I know that," G said, irritably. "That would be why I didn't say anything about it."
Sam nodded. "Ok," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," G sighed.
"I know you wanted to just get out of there and I kept pushing it," Sam said.
G sighed again. "I understood why you wanted to keep going. I just…" he trailed off, not sure how to explain it.
"You'd just thought I was dead and then when I wasn't, you wanted to get me out of the dangerous situation as quickly as possible," Sam said quietly.
"Yeah," G agreed. He pulled his hand up to rub at his forehead, which was still throbbing with the headache that had started when he'd been throwing up.
"You ok?" Sam asked.
"No," G admitted. "Not really."
Sam frowned, and rested his hand against G's face again. "You're a little warm, but not that bad. But maybe we ought to take you in anyway."
G shook his head. "I don't think I'm sick. I think I'm just really, really tired." The adrenaline shakes had mostly faded, leaving him feeling a little weak and a lot exhausted.
"Ok," Sam said. "But if you get any warmer than that, we're going to the clinic," he added. "I'm not messing around with this if you're sick."
"Fine," G capitulated, closing his eyes again. He was honestly too tired to protest.
"You sure you don't want to sleep in the bed?" Sam asked after a moment. "You'd be more comfortable."
"You just don't want to sit on the floor anymore," G mumbled, not opening his eyes. He was actually plenty comfortable here, but Sam would never understand that he could be as comfortable in his bedroll as he was in the bed.
"Not especially," Sam said. "And I wouldn't object to a nap, either."
"All right," G said. He pushed himself upright and let Sam help drag him to his feet. He could feel Sam watching him closely as he staggered towards the main bedroom where the bed was, but Sam didn't try to steady him. He crawled under the covers and mumbled, "There, happy?"
"Very," Sam said. G could hear him taking off his shoes. "You want some aspirin or something for that headache?"
"No," G said, pushing his face into the pillow. The counter-pressure felt good. "Don't want to throw up again."
"Good point," Sam said. The bed dipped as he laid down next to G. G felt him squirm around to get comfortable, finally ending up on his side with a hand on G's back. "Wake me up when you do, ok?" he said.
"Yeah, ok," G mumbled as he finally let himself drop off to sleep.
ETA Part 2
