Title: Back in the Saddle
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Spoilers for the S3 CSI: Vegas episode "Play With Fire".
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders, unfortunately, just borrowing him for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Greg turned over in the hospital bed, wincing and closing his eyes against the pain. He'd expected the burns to hurt, but not this much. He evidently needed more painkillers, but he was hesitant to ask for them in case the nurses said it wasn't a good idea.

The explosion was still hazy in his mind, almost as though it had never happened. But it had; he could feel it in every fiber of his body. He hadn't known that flying through a plate-glass window and landing on his side in the hallway could hurt so much.

He had small cuts on his hands where he'd tried to break his fall with them; he was incredibly lucky that he hadn't broken any bones. He would be able to go back to work as soon as he could move around without any mobility problems, but he had no idea how long that would be.

A week? Two? The doctors had told him that it could be as much as a month before the burns would heal enough for him to be able to move with no pain. To hell with that, Greg told himself. There was no way he was going to miss a month of work.

It wasn't the money; since it was a work injury and had been sustained through no fault of his own, the department would pay him for the time he was out, and they'd pick up the tab with the hospital bills. There was nothing for him to worry about financially.

Ecklie had made sure to tell him that; for once, the older man, who had always seemed to dislike Greg, had looked sympathetic when he was sitting here in the hospital room telling him what the department was going to do as far as compensation. That wouldn't be a problem.

No, the problem was what he was going to do with all the time on his hands. He couldn't just sit around and be a couch potato; he'd be bored within a couple of days at the most. He had to go back to work, though he knew that his limited mobility would make that difficult.

As soon as Gil, or Catherine, or anyone who was his superior saw that he was having a hard time moving around, or that he might be in pain, they would order him to take some time off and go home. And they would probably get Ecklie to enforce that edict.

How could he make people understand that he didn't want to sit around at home? He wanted to be there in the lab, working, doing some good for people. As corny as it might sound, that was one of the reasons he'd wanted to work in the crime lab.

But lately, working at the lab hadn't seemed like enough, Greg thought, wincing as he started to turn over and lie on his back before he remembered the burns. He couldn't lay down like that; he had to stay on his side, or his front. Otherwise, he'd only make the pain worse.

It was hard to focus on what had happened; it still seemed like a dream sequence. He could remember standing by the table in the lab -- and smelling something strange. It had been .... what? Plastic. Burning plastic. That was the last thing he'd been thinking before --

Greg closed his eyes, the sickening sensation of being blown off his feet and flying through the window surrounding him again. It had seemed unreal, until he'd hit the ground and pain had seemed to flood every inch of his body, the impact of the fall rendering him breathless.

At first, he hadn't realized what had happened. He'd raised his head slightly, looking down the hall and seeing the flames and broken glass around him, seeing Sara staring at him -- then a dizzying black void had come rushing up to meet him and he'd passed out cold.

When he'd awakened again, he'd been on a gurney, lying on his side, being wheeled out of the lab to a waiting ambulance. He'd blinked a few times, his vision as blurry as his mind, trying to remember what had happened and piece together where he was and why he was there.

Then all there had been was a flood of pain that he didn't want to recall. Everything had hurt; his back, his hands, his entire body. When he'd fully awakened again, a nurse had been changing the dressings on his back, and he'd been on his side in this hospital bed.

No one had wanted to tell him what had happened at first; they'd just told him to rest and get his strength back, saying that they would talk later. And even after he'd found out exactly what had happened, it still didn't feel as though it had actually taken place.

Gerg sighed, running a hand over his face and wishing that he could clear his fogged mind. How much longer was everything that had happened in the lab going to feel like it was some kind of dream, or a movie that he watched, instead of something that he'd lived through?

One thing was for sure, he couldn't tell his parents about this. His mom would freak, and he'd never hear the end of it. Both of his parents were still way too overprotective of him -- almost to the point that they had been when he was a teenager.

He didn't want to deal with that kind of protectiveness again. He was an adult; he could take care of himself, though his parents would never believe that. They would want to wrap him in cotton wool, insist that he come home with them and never step foot outside again.

So he wouldn't tell them, Greg thought with an inward sigh. He wasn't going to let his parents swoop down into the life he'd made for himself here in Vegas. He couldn't. He loved them, but he wanted to live his own life, not the one they'd tried to plan for him.

He loved his family. He always had, and always would. But they couldn't seem to understand that he had to make mistakes, and live his own life in the way that he chose to. They wanted to protect him from any kind of setback -- which was something no one could do.

Somehow, he'd have to make them understand that -- and make them understand that even though there were times when his job could be dangerous because of possibilities like explosions and other things that could go wrong in a lab, he loved what he did and he wouldn't quit.

It wasn't going to be easy to convince his colleagues that he needed to go back to work, either. They'd all feel that he should recuperate fully, take as much time off as he was allowed, and be sure that he was completely okay before he came back to the lab.

But he wasn't going to do that, Greg told himself firmly. If he stayed away, then the lab would always feel as though it might hold terrors for him -- and he might always feel a little nervous there, thinking that the same thing could happen all over again.

He wouldn't live in fear. He would get back to work as soon as he could move comfortably, even if it wasn't the easiest thing in the world for him to do. What was it they said about falling off a horse? That the best thing to do was to get back on again as soon as possible.

That was what he'd do, Greg told himself, tucking a hand under his cheek and closing his eyes as the painkillers he'd been given started to kick in more fully. He was going to get right back in the saddle, and this time, he wouldn't let himself fall off.

***