Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!
It wasn't something Nick had thought he would ever see. It was unexpected, to say the least. It was shocking and horrifying, and he didn't understand it at all. When his shift had ended that morning Nick was about to head home with much relief when he realized he had left his cell phone in Greg's car. The blonde had already gone home, and Nick resigned himself to making the short detour to retrieve his property. They lived pretty close together, so it was only a couple minutes out of his way, but he was tired and he wanted to go to sleep.
Knowing Greg would lock his car, Nick tried the door of the small Jetta anyway, just on the off chance that it was open. It wasn't, but he had expected that and he would have been disappointed otherwise. So he walked up to the small white house and flipped through his key ring. Greg, Warrick, and he had all given each other spare keys a long time ago, since they all hung out so much. The key was in the slot and turned in moments, and Nick opened the door, walking straight in to the living room. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.
Because there was Greg, sitting on the couch, staring down the barrel of a gun. Where he had gotten the gun was beyond Nick; he was the only CSI not licensed to carry one. But still it was there, dull and silver and pointed right between Greg's eyes. He had his elbows resting on his knees, and his hands were casually holding the 9 mm Magnum up from there. He stared at it as if deep in thought about something, only mildly curious about the deadly object he held. When Nick stepped through the door and stopped, Greg continued to stare in to the barrel of his weapon, not saying a word. Nick choked on his own tongue, shocked and suddenly scared. What in god's name was Greg doing?
"I think about it sometimes…you know?" After a long time Greg suddenly started talking to Nick, still staring death in the face. Nick blinked. "I wonder sometimes what would really happen. If it would really matter. I mean it would be so easy. Just squeeze and…it would all be over." Nick struggled to find words, any words. But first he had to breathe again.
"What would be over?" he whispered. All he could think was that as long as Greg was talking, he wasn't pulling the trigger. So he had to keep Greg talking. But he had no idea what exactly the younger man was talking about. Greg's eyes suddenly shifted over to meet Nick's, and the Texan was staggered. Those brown orbs that usually held so much life were dull, desperate, lifeless. He looked lost and confused, and on the verge of giving up.
"Everything, you know? I wouldn't have to feel this way. I wouldn't have to look this way. I mean…no one would miss me…" he looked back to the gun and shifted it in his hands. Nick felt panic rising up in his chest, at the same time trying to process what he was being told. Knowing that any sudden movement could set his friend off, he made sure his steps were slow and controlled as he moved a bit closer. Greg watched the gun and ignored him passively for now, not seeming to care.
"What are you talking about Greg?" Nick asked, and why could he suddenly remember nothing about what to say to calm a suspect? Not that Greg was a suspect. Actually in a twisted sort of way he was both the suspect and the victim here. But he still required soothing words and tones as he sat there, contemplating suicide. Nick couldn't bear to let him go through with it, and the thought of him dying without telling anyone why was even worse.
"I'm damaged goods Nick," he stated quietly. "You know. I know it. Everyone at the lab knows it. I'm a scarred, disgusting freak that no one could love. I've killed. And no one would miss me if I just…squeezed. Wouldn't it be so easy?" He suddenly sat up a little straighter and raised the gun a little higher, as if his thoughts were getting more serious. As if he were actually thinking of going through with this. The panic in Nick's chest threatened to suffocate him but the Texan knew he needed to be strong now. He needed to get them both through this moment so that they could both live to see the next. He stopped moving forward and held out his hands.
"Now hold on G. That's not true. A lot of people would miss you. Your parents would, Gris would, everyone at the lab would. I would. I'd miss you Greggo, you got to know that." He implored his friend to see reason, and Greg's eyes met his again. He looked terrified, but Nick wasn't sure of what. "Come on G. Give me the gun. Give it to me and I can…I can help you." Nick slowly extended one of his hands closer, reaching out to the dull silver weapon. Greg's hands tightened and suddenly his eyes were threatening to drop tears.
"I don't want to be this way anymore!" he cried out, pausing Nick's movements. They stared at each other and Nick prayed. When Greg closed his eyes to blink away his tears Nick saw his opening and lunged. The blonde cried out when the gun was suddenly torn from his hands and they both looked at each other in disbelief, unsure of what had just happened. Then Greg covered his face with his hands and broke down. He undulated in to a sobbing mess of tears and swear words, his whole body shaking violently.
Nick secured the gun in the back on his jeans – making sure the safety was on – before he caught Greg up in his arms and rocked them together soothingly. Confusion and terror were still whirling around in his head. He had almost lost his best friend, but to what? The blonde in his arms sobbed brokenly, shaking like a leaf in the wind and mumbling incoherently. Nick was sure that neither one of them would ever know what those words were saying. They stayed like that for a long time until Nick was able to process things again. Greg was considering committing suicide. He had thought of doing it more than once. The Texan wondered what had kept him from doing it those times before. He also wondered, if he hadn't shown up, would this have been the time that Greg would have gone through with it?
Finally Greg began to calm. His loud sobs depleted in to steady quiet crying, and his body stopped quaking. He trembled lightly as Nick continued to rock him, holding him closer. He started to run circles on the small of Greg's back but the younger man flinched away from the contact so he stopped. He was allowed to run his hands through the wild blonde hair though, so he did that with a steady rhythm.
"God you scared me Greg," Nick whispered all of a sudden. "I don't know what I'd do if you…we would miss you, you know." Greg slowly shook his head where it was buried in Nick's t-shirt, and the older man wondered if he was being disagreed with. He pulled them apart and forced Greg to look at him. "Greg, tell me what is going on," he demanded. Greg sobbed a little harder again, but didn't look away. He looked so lost and afraid.
"I just don't want to be like this anymore Nick…I can't stand myself," he whispered, tears still falling down his face. Nick wiped them away with his thumbs, holding his head in place, and assumed a confused look.
"Like what Greggo? I don't understand." But boy did he ever want to. Greg closed his eyes and tried to take calming breaths. It didn't work so well, as he almost began to hyperventilate. But Nick held his face tighter and rested their foreheads together, and that seemed to help a little bit. They sat in silence for a minute while Greg tried to compose himself again enough to talk.
"I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore, you know? I used to be…so beautiful. When I was younger. And I knew it too. Now I'm…I'm scarred. I'm disgusting. And it's not just my back anymore. Those kids…my chest…my sides…and I killed him Nick. Who could- who could love a killer? Especially one so physically repulsive!" His words burned with self-loathing, and Nick was taken aback by his hate for himself. "I used to be such a good person! Now I can't look at myself without seeing someone cold, useless. Unloved. I'm going to end up alone and I can't stand that." He shuddered but Nick frowned and forced them to make eye contact again. He was about to say something when he thought the better of it.
He stood and pulled Greg up beside him. The younger man cried out in protest when Nick's hands went to the bottom of his dark red shirt, but Nick was determined. He ruthlessly pulled the garment up and over Greg's head, away from his struggling arms. He turned the man around and stared openly at the latticework of scars there, marring what he supposed had once been perfect smooth skin. Then he turned them face to face again and put his face very close to Greg's frightened teary face.
"Now you listen and you listen good, Gregory Hojem Sanders. You don't disgust me. You don't even scare me. Not one little bit. Those scars are a part of you now and they don't make you any different as a person." Greg started crying again, but he couldn't look away. "You are one of the best people I know Greg. And I definitely would miss you if you left. You are kind, caring, compassionate, funny, bright, and the world would be much worse off without you. No I'm not done yet!" He said sternly as Greg tried to pull away. "You listen close. Demetrius James was an accident, and you were acting in self-defense. You're not a killer. You're not cold. And you're not unloved. You got all that?" He could feel so many more words bubbling up, but he clamped down on them when Greg nodded, looking terrified.
The blonde sobbed again, his noises pitiful and heartbreaking. So Nick pulled him in close and hugged them close together. He buried Greg's face in his shoulder and stroked the soft hair that stuck out towards him, whispering soothing words and trying not to picture Greg as his next scene to process.
"Oh Greg, what were you thinking?" he heard himself whispering. Greg gave off a choking noise and spoke in to his neck.
"I just don't want to feel like this anymore," he said, his words muffled by skin and clothing. "I hate feeling that I've lost a part of me. And I hate knowing that I gave a part of me away and they won't give it back." That part had Nick's hand pausing in its movements and he pulled them slightly apart so he could look his friend in the eye again. There was a swirl of anger rising rapidly out of nowhere and it took over before either one of them could do a thing about it. Suddenly Greg was pushing him away by planting hands on his chest and giving a huge shove. Nick stumbled backwards, barely managing not to fall. He looked back up and met Greg's eyes as the younger man suddenly blazed. "And I hate loving you!" he screamed, his voice harsh and loud but sure.
Nick was sure he had stopped breathing. Pretty sure the world had stopped spinning. Those words made even less sense than any of the others had, and he was having a great deal of trouble trying to compute them. Greg was suddenly on the offensive, his feet planted and his arms hanging at his side, loose yet tensed for action. His fingers clenched in to tight fists as his face twisted in his blatant causeless rage.
"Do you know what it's like, to watch you every day and know I can't have you? Do you know what it's like to carry a secret about yourself around, afraid that if people knew they would turn their backs? I hate that you're so fucking perfect. I hate that I watch you and you don't even know who I am! Do you know what it's like, Nick, to hate yourself?" Nick could do no more than simply stand there and let the tsunami wave pull him under. Greg's face was twisted and distorted and he was breathing heavily like he had just run for miles at top speed. "Fuck you Nick, fuck you just for being who you are. I hate that I love you. Do you know what it's like to know that your love is wrong?" He turned suddenly and drove his fist in to the wall. The plastered shattered beneath the blow, caving inwards and expelling a billow of white dust.
With one last heated glare thrown over his shoulder Greg strode away towards the kitchen. Blood dripped from his knuckles, splashing on the hardwood floors and creating a trail where his feet passed. The white plaster dust drifted down ever so slowly, floating down to the ground on the current of the air conditioner. Nick stared at the hole for a few seconds before his eyes swung over to stare through the doorway that led to the kitchen. He could see Greg through it; the blonde ripped open a drawer and withdrew a knife, which he promptly turned and threw at the wall. Then he just stood there and stared at the floor, hoping to dear god that Nick would just leave now. But the older man couldn't do that. Not only had Greg been considering suicide less than ten minutes ago, now he was agitated and had access to many sharp implements. The Texan wondered briefly if he had any other guns hidden in the house.
After a few minutes Greg lifted his head and slowly looked over to where Nick was still standing. He kept eye contact only very briefly before shaking his head and looking away. He stepped out of Nick's line of sight, across the kitchen to pull the knife out of the wall. Nick stepped over to the doorway and watched Greg inspect the gouge in the wall uncaringly. It was pretty deep, belying how hard the knife had been thrown. The top of the gouge extended in a long crack upwards. Greg ran his fingers down the crack almost tenderly, trying to implant its implication in his brain, before he turned and negligently tossed the knife on to the table.
"Just go home Nick," he said very quietly and without turning around. He sounded defeated and empty. His shoulders slumped in weariness as he slowly walked out of the kitchen, down the hall to his bedroom. Nick stared after him for merely seconds before ignoring what he had been told to do and following him. He found Greg sitting on the edge of his bed in the same position he had been sitting in the living room – minus the gun. He had pulled an old buttoned shirt on but not bothered buttoning it so it hung open to reveal his thin chest, not as bad as his back, but scarred as well.
He looked up when Nick appeared in the doorway, and when their eyes met he sighed and looked down again. Nick stepped forward and knelt down in front of him. Greg just turned his head away, not bothering to try and move himself. It was obvious that Nick wanted to say something more and wouldn't leave until he had said it. Short of running away from his own home, Greg resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to hear this. He steeled his heart for the big rejection speech; it wasn't as if he hadn't heard it before.
"I know what it's like to hate yourself," Nick whispered at long last. "But I don't hate myself because of what I am, so much as what I'm not. And I know what it's like to watch someone and know I can't have them. I watch you every day Greg, and wonder why I'm not enough for you. Why I can't make you look at me. Why I was born a man when you are so obviously in to women." He paused and waited for Greg to finally calculate what he was saying, and for his blonde head to shoot up to stare at him incredulously, shock deep in his eyes, but still drowning in sadness.
"But I guess we never know others as well as we think we do. I thought you were the strongest of us all Greg, the one who nothing ever got to. Then I walk in here today and…and you've got a gun pointed at your face because you think you're not worth it. You're so worth it Greg. I know you don't think so but you are still beautiful." Greg had started crying all over again, and he was looking away from Nick. But the Texan just kept talking; still scared out of his mind by what he had found when he had only come looking for his cell phone. "You're probably the most beautiful person I've ever met, inside and out, and I don't what I would ever do if something happened to you. I mean when you were in that explosion I swear my heart wouldn't start beating again until they said you were going to live. And that gang of kids…I had them all standing right in front of me; do you know how hard it was not to shoot?"
Greg wasn't even aware that he was crying until he felt gentle fingers wiping the wetness from his cheeks. He lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut tight, wondering if he wished hard enough if he could just will the entire world away. He felt his chin being grasped and he head was forced to turn, but he refused to open his eyes. His lips parted as he took in pitiful little gasps of air and a thumb ran across them. Then he felt his hands being picked up and squeezed and finally he looked at Nick, praying with everything he had that this was all real.
"You don't want me Nick," he whispered, giving the older man one last chance to back out if he wanted to. "I'm messed up." He clenched his jaw in an effort to stem the flow of tears currently streaming from his eyes. It didn't work so well though, so he just gave up and let his emotions run their roller coaster course. Nick smiled from his place on the floor, and his eyes were bright and honest.
"I'm pretty messed up myself," he admitted, "but I know when to let things go. You need to let someone in Greg, you can't hold all of this in on your own." He laced their fingers together and drew Greg down towards him. The blonde allowed himself to be pulled until their faces were mere inches apart, then he held his breath and tried to think of what to say to that. His head was in a confusing whirl of emotions so wild he couldn't get any single thought to follow through from start to finish. Nick watched him struggle for a bit before he pushed himself up, and their faces were less than an inch from touching. "You gunna let me help you?" he asked.
Greg's answer was to whimper and close the distance between them, his hands coming up to wind in to Nick's hair and pull him closer like the man on edge that he was. Immediately he could feel the fireworks exploding in his brain and the knot in his gut both twisting tighter and falling loose. Nick's tongue darted out to run across his lips and he gave access without even stopping to think about it. He didn't bother to fight for dominance either, giving himself up as a whole right from the start. This is what he needed. He needed someone to take control and point him in the right direction. He needed someone else to take a long hard look at the pieces of his life and tell him that there was still a way to fix him. He needed someone like Nick.
And Nick was up to the task, pushing Greg backwards and crawling up and over him without even breaking their desperate lip lock. He cradled the younger man's head with one hand while running the other down his chest soothingly. When they had both shimmied up level with the pillows he finally broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together. He took a deep breath and looked Greg in the eye in the way he had been waiting years to do.
"What do you need Greg?" he asked quietly. Greg whimpered again but he didn't look away.
"I need you to tell me that it's all going to be ok," he whispered back. So he did. And it was. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, they both knew that. They were going to have to fight for their happy ending, but it was the first time in their lives that a happy ending was within their sights. And they would be damned if they weren't going to reach out and grab a hold of it together.