Author's Note: Oneshot. Hurt/Comfort. Mainly Nick. Nick/Greg. Nick's POV. Slash.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned.

Acknowledgements: A thank-you goes out to Amanda for proofreading, as always.

Summary: No one is truly alone, and sometimes the best listener is just a phone call away.

You're Not Alone

Spare time … one of the things Nick had little of and one of the things he wished he had more of. Most people would spend their extra time with their loved ones, but Nick … well …

"I'm off, Greg. I'll see you around three," Nick said, his hand on the cold, gold colored doorknob.

"Wait!" Greg called, rushing over to plant a quick kiss on the older man's lips. "Save some lives, Nick."

"I always try," the Texan replied, leaving behind his spare time and his loved one to go out into the unknown, the unstable, the deadly.

"Hey Nick," Taryn said, swinging around in her chair to smile at him. Nick dropped down at his own desk and smiled back at her.

"Hey," he said. "How's it going?"

"Uh, okay, I guess. As good as it can be when you are dealing with people who are suicidal," Taryn sighed, the smile vanishing from her tanned face, her almost black eyes darkening.

"But they phoned. They know they need help. That means they probably won't do it," Nick reminded her gently. Taryn seemed to get down on herself about not being able to do more for the people, and Nick always reminded her that she was doing something by just being there.

Taryn sighed again, and shrugged. She picked up her empty travel mug of coffee and with a wave she was gone, her shift over. Nick turned towards his desk, the flat screen monitor dark, and the phone's call light not on.

He turned on the computer, waiting for someone to phone. Was it a horrible thing if Nick was wishing that someone needed his help right now? That someone out there was having suicidal thoughts just so he would have something to do? Nick snorted, ashamed of his thoughts. He had his answer.

The light flashed on, and Nick raced to answer it. "Suicide Prevention Line, Nick Stokes speaking."

There was silence on the other end of the line, but Nick didn't hang up. A lot of people were nervous about calling, so he just said, "Is anyone there?"

"Yes," a tortured voice let out. It was a young male, by the sounds of it. "I … I need help."

"I'm here to help you," Nick said, leaning back in his chair, listening intently. He had never dealt with a teenager before.

"I … I don't even know why I called you. I'm just so frustrated at myself; sometimes I think it'd be better if I wasn't alive. If no one had to deal with me, me being a freak, the world would be better," the boy whispered, and Nick could hear the tears in his voice.

"Why do you think you're a freak?" Nick questioned gently.

"Because I'm … I'm … gay."

"Being gay doesn't make you a freak," the older man said, trying not to be hasty.

"But I have a crush on one of my friends. He'd kill me if he found out. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I want to tell everyone, but I know if I do I'll never be accepted," the young male sniffled, his voice quiet.

"Telling people that you are gay or bi is probably one of the hardest things to do in life. To many people it isn't normal or right, but you can't help it. It's who you are. That does not make you a freak in any way, or abnormal or anything. It's a part of you," Nick told him, hearing the truth in his own words. He knew they were true.

"Then it would be easier to just not live than to live like this. I hate hiding myself, but I'd hate myself even more if I told everyone."

Nick took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. For the first time since he had been volunteering at the Suicide Prevention Line, he was losing his temper with someone. He had to cool down; this kid needed his help, not the harsh reality. "Well, you'll be able to tell the world one day, but maybe that day isn't here yet."

The line went silent. Had the boy hung up, or was he just thinking?

"But why me?" the boy finally muttered, his voice choked with tears.

Nick felt his own inner demons stirring as he took another deep breath. He blinked a few times as well, trying to keep his vision clear. "No one knows, but it does not make you a freak. It's a part of you."

"I just … I don't see how I can ever end up happy if I'm … you know …" the boy trailed off, his voice unhappy, but it had lost that desperate tone.

"You'll find that one person who can accept you for who you are, and you'll find happiness with him. It could take months or years to find this person, but you just gotta believe you will. Attitude is everything," Nick responded, an image of Greg's beaming, cheerful face swimming in his mind.

"Hmmm …" the boy mused. "I guess. But how do you know for sure?"

"No one does," Nick replied gently, a sad smile on his lips.

The boy sighed. "I don't even know why I called. I—I'm not weak. I never thought I'd be driven to thoughts of suicide before. And now … now I don't know about myself anymore. All these stupid problems just seem to keep adding up, and then I realize I'm gay."

"You aren't weak," Nick told the young man, "because you realized you didn't want to give up. Because you knew that your life was important. You aren't weak because you called.

"I know that a lot of crap happens around that age, trust me, I know. I was a teenager once, too. Your parents are probably putting pressure on you, reminding you about all the colleges that you should look into. Your high school work is also becoming more demanding. And then there are your friends who are always talking about the girls they've been with. You try to pretend you've been with the ladies too, but it's a complete lie and you hate lying to your friends. It all just keeps adding up until you feel like you can't withstand anymore, but somehow you live to see another day."

"Yeah," the boy agreed, his voice slightly confused, "but … how could you relate so well to me? It's as if you know exactly what it's like to be me."

The words came easily and simply to Nick's lips, without any hesitation: "I'm gay as well."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I know you probably don't believe me, but it's true. I've been there, done that. I know exactly what you're going through, and trust me: Life does get better. Maybe not right at first, but once you're out of high school and on your own, you'll realize the full potential of yourself—"

"Your life," the boy interrupted swiftly, "is it … well, great?"

Nick grinned. "Yeah, my life isgreat. It took me years before I opened up to my friends that I was gay, and it took me almost as long to tell the man I loved that I loved him. But all those years of tormenting myself about being who I am was worth it. It made me who I am today. You'll realize that too."

Another silence, this one longer.

"Are you sure?" the boy asked hesitantly.

"I can't make any promises," Nick said, "but you sound like you're on the right track."

The boy laughed, the sound harsh. "Yeah, sure. I phoned a suicide prevention line! How is that on 'the right track'?"

The Texan closed his eyes for a moment. "I was in your position once, too. I hated myself, and I thought that I should just end it all. I didn't want to deal with all the problems of life, so one night I took a whole bottle of sleeping pills and swallowed 'em all. I phoned my best friend and told her that I was sorry, and that this was the end. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, my best friend sitting beside me, holding my hand. She saved me, and she taught me that life was worth living."

"Hey, I have a friend like that!" the boy burst in, his voice brightening. "She's the one who gave me this number."

"Well, you hold on to friends like that …" Nick trailed off, his thoughts still situated around his old high school best friend.

"I will," the teen said, and the Texan could hear the smile in the teen's voice.

Another pause, and Nick knew for sure that the caller was thinking this time, thinking about everything that the older man had said.

"I … I want to thank you," the boy said slowly. "You saved me from myself. I guess all I really needed to do was talk to someone who knew what I was going through."

"I think your friend also played a part. You should tell her you're going to be okay."

"Yeah, I'm going to be okay," the young man agreed. "I know I will."

Long after they had hung up, Nick sat completely still at his desk. He could hear the soft murmurs of other volunteers manning the phones, saving lives, and all he could think about was that boy.

The Texan knew exactly what the teenager was going through. He knew that the boy's crush was probably straight, and there would be a lot of heartbreak in the teen's future.

But that was life, and you dealt with it.

Nick had, and he was glad he hadn't given up. Glad that he had the support of his best friend back in the day, and glad that he had fought his inner demons. This did make him who he was, and he liked where he was in life.

"Yeah," the Texan muttered to himself, "my life is great."