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miss_lucy21Apparently, G wasn't done yet...
Spoilers for "Betrayal"
Part 1
When he woke up, it was mostly dark. Sam was sitting up on the side of the bed, which G realized was what had woke him.
"Time's it?" he asked, pushing up to stretch his back.
"About 6:30", Sam replied.
G flopped over onto his back and watched Sam flip on the floor lamp. "You going home?"
"No, I'm staying here tonight," Sam said. He came over and rested his hand against G's forehead again. "You're still warm."
"I'm fine," G sighed.
"How's your head?" Sam asked.
"Better," G said.
Sam nodded. "Your stomach still hurt?"
"Not really," G said.
"If you ate, would you keep it down?" Sam asked.
G thought for a moment, trying to ignore the little voice that constantly reminded him that if he didn't eat now then he might not get any later. Some days it was harder to ignore than others. "Yeah, I think so," he replied finally.
"Ok," Sam said. "I'm going to go get some food, then."
"All right," G yawned. He watched Sam put his shoes on and leave before he hauled himself out of the bed. He wandered back to the small bedroom where his clothes were and pulled his cell phone out of his discarded jeans. There was a text from Kensi asking if he was feeling better. He smiled slightly and sent her a message to say he was ok. Then he found sweats and a t-shirt and got dressed before going to the kitchen for a glass of water. He took the water and the phone back to the larger bedroom and settled back down on the bed because being upright was taking an inordinate amount of energy. He felt better than he had earlier, but he still felt extremely tired.
He woke up without even realizing he'd fallen asleep when he smelled Chinese food and found Sam standing by the bed and unwrapping a thermometer. "I'm fine," he protested.
"Humor me," Sam said. G sighed and let Sam tuck the end of the thermometer under his tongue. They waited for the beep, then Sam took the thermometer back. "98.4", he said.
"Told you," G said, sliding out of bed to sit on the floor with his back against the bed. "What'd you get?"
"For you, soup," Sam said, firmly. "And some ginger ale." He rifled through the bag of food and pulled out a container and a spoon, which he handed to G.
G opened the soup and took a sip. It was slightly gingery and obviously made with vegetable broth instead of chicken broth. It tasted good. He ate it slowly as Sam ate what looked like vegetable lo mein. He smiled a little, realizing that Sam hadn't gotten any food with meat in it because he didn't want to upset G's stomach again.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Nothing," G said. He finished his soup, drank some of the ginger ale and leaned his head back against the bed.
"Get back up into bed if you're going to fall asleep," Sam suggested.
"Mm." G said, but he pushed himself up and curled up in the bed to fall asleep again.
It was full dark when he woke up again, feeling drowsy and like he'd slept a long time. Sam was asleep next to him, but he woke up slightly as G stood up. "'sup?" he asked.
"Nothing," G said, softly. "Go back to sleep."
"Mm," Sam agreed.
G went to the bathroom and came back to bed. He checked his cell phone- it was almost 2 am. He wasn't sure when the last time was that he'd slept for almost 5 hours straight after having slept for an additional 2 hours or so prior to that, but he was sure it wasn't recently. And yet, he was still tired enough to lie back down next to Sam. He watched Sam sleep, resisting the urge to reach out and trace the tattoo on his arm. A lump grew in the back of his throat and he tried to swallow it down like he had multiple times over the past week. But the tears filling his eyes wouldn't disappear. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to take a deep breath and calm down, but his eyes overflowed and he felt the hot tears stream down his face.
"Hey, hey," he heard Sam said as his breath caught again on a sob. "It's ok, G. You're ok," Sam whispered as he cupped G's face in his hands.
"Sorry," he tried to say, but he could barely talk.
"No, no," Sam said gently. "Don't be sorry. Everything's fine," he said, pulling G close. G rested his head on Sam's shoulder and tried to breathe. "I'm safe. You're safe. We're fine," Sam soothed.
It only took another minute or so for G to pull himself together and push back to lie back down. "Ok?" Sam asked. He nodded. "I'll be right back, ok?" He nodded again.
Sam came back with a fresh glass of water, a box of tissues and a washcloth. "Here, let's check your temp again first," he said, picking up the thermometer. "You're warmer than you were."
"Because I was sleeping with both of us under the covers," G said, tiredly, sitting up. "And because you're paranoid about me being sick right now."
"G," Sam sighed.
"I'm going to humor you," G said, taking the thermometer and turning it on. "Because you've put up with a hell of a lot worse out of me. But I'm telling you, you're being paranoid."
Sam waited until G had the thermometer in his mouth, probably so G couldn't respond immediately. "You're not acting like you're ok, G. You actually went to Hetty and said you didn't feel good and went home without someone putting a gun to your head. You told me you weren't ok earlier and I don't think you've ever said that before. I don't think I've ever seen you sleep for 5 hours without drugs before, either. So, yeah, I'm a little concerned that you're coming down with something and if you are, it's probably not just a cold."
The thermometer beeped and Sam pulled it out of his mouth. "98.8", he said.
"Which is still normal," G pointed out, remembering being told at one point after he'd been shot that anything under 100 degrees could be considered normal. "Look, I'm not saying I don't feel crappy. But I'm not feverish or achy. No chills. I wasn't nauseous at all before lunchtime and the soup was fine. Yes, my head hurts. Yes, I feel like I could sleep for a week. But-"
"But that could be jet lag and adrenaline," Sam finished.
"Yeah," G agreed. "I'm just tired, Sam. That's all. If I start feeling like I'm more than just tired, then I swear I will tell you."
"All right," Sam said. "I just worry. We all do."
"I know that," G said. "And I'm trying to not be annoyed about it." He didn't like people worrying about him. It made him nervous and he knew he had a tendency to get snappy when he was nervous. And Sam and the rest of the team didn't really deserve to get snapped at, at least at the moment. He took the washcloth from Sam and wiped it over his face.
"You're doing good, G," Sam said quietly, handing him the glass of water.
G drank half the glass and set it down. "Thanks," he said. He knew Sam wouldn't tell him he was doing ok if he wasn't. Some days it was hard to just not walk away and disappear and Sam knew that. He took a deep breath as he realized that he might have had to figure out how to do this without Sam.
"Easy," Sam said, setting a hand on his shoulder. His face must have given something away. "I'm okay."
"I know," G said. He took another deep breath and tried to shove the panic away again. He was getting really tired of the fluttery feeling behind his chest. It had been there most of the summer, and he'd finally gotten rid of it when this whole thing had happened. He flopped backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"You're gonna hate it, but I think maybe you shouldn't go in tomorrow," Sam said, sitting down on the bed. "Today," he corrected, clearly realizing it was rather late. "Even if you're not sick, you're pretty worn out."
"Yeah," G sighed. He'd admitted to himself earlier today that he wasn't on his game and that could be dangerous. And an evening of sleep wasn't really enough to get him back to true. A day might not be enough either, but it would be a better start.
"You think you're up for now or do you want to try and sleep some more?" Sam asked.
"I don't want to move," G admitted. "But I don't know if I'll fall asleep again."
"That's fine," Sam said. "But I need another couple of hours."
"Go ahead," G said. "I don't think I'm going to be moving around much." Sam didn't sleep well when G rattled around the house. Some nights G couldn't help it, but he did try to stay in one spot as much as possible when Sam was asleep, particularly after the Toaster Incident the other summer.
"All right," Sam said, lying down on the other side of the bed. "If you fall asleep, do you want me to wake you up when I get up?"
G shook his head. "Just to say you're going."
"You gonna stay home, then?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," G said.
"Good," Sam said. "We can always call you if we really, really need you."
"Right," G said. "But I kinda hope you don't."
"I do too," Sam said. He settled back and closed his eyes.
G settled himself so he could watch Sam and stare up at the ceiling without needing to move much. It was safe to just let himself relax, he told himself, hoping to quell the fluttering in his chest. He was safe. Sam was safe. The rest of the team was safe. All good, he told himself. Maybe if he said it enough times he'd believe it.
Spoilers for "Betrayal"
Part 1
When he woke up, it was mostly dark. Sam was sitting up on the side of the bed, which G realized was what had woke him.
"Time's it?" he asked, pushing up to stretch his back.
"About 6:30", Sam replied.
G flopped over onto his back and watched Sam flip on the floor lamp. "You going home?"
"No, I'm staying here tonight," Sam said. He came over and rested his hand against G's forehead again. "You're still warm."
"I'm fine," G sighed.
"How's your head?" Sam asked.
"Better," G said.
Sam nodded. "Your stomach still hurt?"
"Not really," G said.
"If you ate, would you keep it down?" Sam asked.
G thought for a moment, trying to ignore the little voice that constantly reminded him that if he didn't eat now then he might not get any later. Some days it was harder to ignore than others. "Yeah, I think so," he replied finally.
"Ok," Sam said. "I'm going to go get some food, then."
"All right," G yawned. He watched Sam put his shoes on and leave before he hauled himself out of the bed. He wandered back to the small bedroom where his clothes were and pulled his cell phone out of his discarded jeans. There was a text from Kensi asking if he was feeling better. He smiled slightly and sent her a message to say he was ok. Then he found sweats and a t-shirt and got dressed before going to the kitchen for a glass of water. He took the water and the phone back to the larger bedroom and settled back down on the bed because being upright was taking an inordinate amount of energy. He felt better than he had earlier, but he still felt extremely tired.
He woke up without even realizing he'd fallen asleep when he smelled Chinese food and found Sam standing by the bed and unwrapping a thermometer. "I'm fine," he protested.
"Humor me," Sam said. G sighed and let Sam tuck the end of the thermometer under his tongue. They waited for the beep, then Sam took the thermometer back. "98.4", he said.
"Told you," G said, sliding out of bed to sit on the floor with his back against the bed. "What'd you get?"
"For you, soup," Sam said, firmly. "And some ginger ale." He rifled through the bag of food and pulled out a container and a spoon, which he handed to G.
G opened the soup and took a sip. It was slightly gingery and obviously made with vegetable broth instead of chicken broth. It tasted good. He ate it slowly as Sam ate what looked like vegetable lo mein. He smiled a little, realizing that Sam hadn't gotten any food with meat in it because he didn't want to upset G's stomach again.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Nothing," G said. He finished his soup, drank some of the ginger ale and leaned his head back against the bed.
"Get back up into bed if you're going to fall asleep," Sam suggested.
"Mm." G said, but he pushed himself up and curled up in the bed to fall asleep again.
It was full dark when he woke up again, feeling drowsy and like he'd slept a long time. Sam was asleep next to him, but he woke up slightly as G stood up. "'sup?" he asked.
"Nothing," G said, softly. "Go back to sleep."
"Mm," Sam agreed.
G went to the bathroom and came back to bed. He checked his cell phone- it was almost 2 am. He wasn't sure when the last time was that he'd slept for almost 5 hours straight after having slept for an additional 2 hours or so prior to that, but he was sure it wasn't recently. And yet, he was still tired enough to lie back down next to Sam. He watched Sam sleep, resisting the urge to reach out and trace the tattoo on his arm. A lump grew in the back of his throat and he tried to swallow it down like he had multiple times over the past week. But the tears filling his eyes wouldn't disappear. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to take a deep breath and calm down, but his eyes overflowed and he felt the hot tears stream down his face.
"Hey, hey," he heard Sam said as his breath caught again on a sob. "It's ok, G. You're ok," Sam whispered as he cupped G's face in his hands.
"Sorry," he tried to say, but he could barely talk.
"No, no," Sam said gently. "Don't be sorry. Everything's fine," he said, pulling G close. G rested his head on Sam's shoulder and tried to breathe. "I'm safe. You're safe. We're fine," Sam soothed.
It only took another minute or so for G to pull himself together and push back to lie back down. "Ok?" Sam asked. He nodded. "I'll be right back, ok?" He nodded again.
Sam came back with a fresh glass of water, a box of tissues and a washcloth. "Here, let's check your temp again first," he said, picking up the thermometer. "You're warmer than you were."
"Because I was sleeping with both of us under the covers," G said, tiredly, sitting up. "And because you're paranoid about me being sick right now."
"G," Sam sighed.
"I'm going to humor you," G said, taking the thermometer and turning it on. "Because you've put up with a hell of a lot worse out of me. But I'm telling you, you're being paranoid."
Sam waited until G had the thermometer in his mouth, probably so G couldn't respond immediately. "You're not acting like you're ok, G. You actually went to Hetty and said you didn't feel good and went home without someone putting a gun to your head. You told me you weren't ok earlier and I don't think you've ever said that before. I don't think I've ever seen you sleep for 5 hours without drugs before, either. So, yeah, I'm a little concerned that you're coming down with something and if you are, it's probably not just a cold."
The thermometer beeped and Sam pulled it out of his mouth. "98.8", he said.
"Which is still normal," G pointed out, remembering being told at one point after he'd been shot that anything under 100 degrees could be considered normal. "Look, I'm not saying I don't feel crappy. But I'm not feverish or achy. No chills. I wasn't nauseous at all before lunchtime and the soup was fine. Yes, my head hurts. Yes, I feel like I could sleep for a week. But-"
"But that could be jet lag and adrenaline," Sam finished.
"Yeah," G agreed. "I'm just tired, Sam. That's all. If I start feeling like I'm more than just tired, then I swear I will tell you."
"All right," Sam said. "I just worry. We all do."
"I know that," G said. "And I'm trying to not be annoyed about it." He didn't like people worrying about him. It made him nervous and he knew he had a tendency to get snappy when he was nervous. And Sam and the rest of the team didn't really deserve to get snapped at, at least at the moment. He took the washcloth from Sam and wiped it over his face.
"You're doing good, G," Sam said quietly, handing him the glass of water.
G drank half the glass and set it down. "Thanks," he said. He knew Sam wouldn't tell him he was doing ok if he wasn't. Some days it was hard to just not walk away and disappear and Sam knew that. He took a deep breath as he realized that he might have had to figure out how to do this without Sam.
"Easy," Sam said, setting a hand on his shoulder. His face must have given something away. "I'm okay."
"I know," G said. He took another deep breath and tried to shove the panic away again. He was getting really tired of the fluttery feeling behind his chest. It had been there most of the summer, and he'd finally gotten rid of it when this whole thing had happened. He flopped backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"You're gonna hate it, but I think maybe you shouldn't go in tomorrow," Sam said, sitting down on the bed. "Today," he corrected, clearly realizing it was rather late. "Even if you're not sick, you're pretty worn out."
"Yeah," G sighed. He'd admitted to himself earlier today that he wasn't on his game and that could be dangerous. And an evening of sleep wasn't really enough to get him back to true. A day might not be enough either, but it would be a better start.
"You think you're up for now or do you want to try and sleep some more?" Sam asked.
"I don't want to move," G admitted. "But I don't know if I'll fall asleep again."
"That's fine," Sam said. "But I need another couple of hours."
"Go ahead," G said. "I don't think I'm going to be moving around much." Sam didn't sleep well when G rattled around the house. Some nights G couldn't help it, but he did try to stay in one spot as much as possible when Sam was asleep, particularly after the Toaster Incident the other summer.
"All right," Sam said, lying down on the other side of the bed. "If you fall asleep, do you want me to wake you up when I get up?"
G shook his head. "Just to say you're going."
"You gonna stay home, then?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," G said.
"Good," Sam said. "We can always call you if we really, really need you."
"Right," G said. "But I kinda hope you don't."
"I do too," Sam said. He settled back and closed his eyes.
G settled himself so he could watch Sam and stare up at the ceiling without needing to move much. It was safe to just let himself relax, he told himself, hoping to quell the fluttering in his chest. He was safe. Sam was safe. The rest of the team was safe. All good, he told himself. Maybe if he said it enough times he'd believe it.
