A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I figured the start of a new year should ring in a new chapter in the Greg/Ryan saga that began way back with "Why Can't I?" A few notes before starting:

1. This is a songfic in the regards that each chapter begins with a few lines from the song "This I Promise You" by NSYNC.

2. This is SLASH!! CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED!! IF YOU DO NOT LIKE, DO NOT READ!!!!!

3. As aforementioned, this is a Ryan/Greg fic. As such, it obviously does not take place in any specific season, but I want to put a general spoiler warner out there that any material up to the current seasons (Season 9 for CSI and Season 7 for CSI: Miami) is fair game. As such, a few notes on poetic license that I have taken with some of the characters: Alexx is still as the MDPD as the MD. Natalia does not exist, pretty much at all. I really don't like her character.

4. Rated for language and angst, as per always. Un-beta'd, so blame me for any and all mistakes!

5. Please read and review!

6. I have no timeline for this fic. The chapters will get published as I write them.

7. CSI: and CSI: Miami belong to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. I own neither the characters nor the places nor yet the song. Only the plot.

As a final note before beginning, this fic takes a bit of a different direction. It had lots of fluff--no worries there--but it also will have sizeable amounts of angst, of a different variety than the previous fics in this series. Just thought I'd give everyone a fair warning before starting. And now, without further ado, I present:

This I Promise You

Chapter One

"When the visions around you
Bring tears to your eyes
And all that surrounds you
Are secrets and lies"

Ryan Wolfe woke up slowly, trying to figure out why he felt different. Sitting up, he looked around, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. He was alone. Greg was not there. And while Ryan knew very well that Greg had slept on the couch last night because he had needed to get up early to testify at court this morning, and hadn't wanted to wake Ryan, Ryan still felt a small hole in his heart, a remnant from when Greg had left, seemingly permanently, to return to Vegas. Ryan knew that Greg would never do something like that again, but that knowledge was little comfort.

He just didn't like to be without Greg, even just for one night. The apartment was too cold, the bed too big, his life too empty for those few hours without the company of the blond-haired man that Ryan more than anything in this world.

Looking down, Ryan absentmindedly twisted the ring that occupied the long-vacant spot on his left ring finger. He didn't have to look at it to know that it still was inscribed with the phrase, "The best is yet to be," a perfect summary of the life he and Greg were starting together. And he knew it was true, which was part of what made being separated from Greg, no matter how brief the time, all the more unbearable—Ryan was highly selfish and only human, and wanted Greg for himself, together and alone, wrapped in their perfect forever.

"Well, lying here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help anyone," Ryan said aloud to himself as he stretched his arms over his head and sat up. After a moment, he stood and padded into the kitchen, yawning widely.

There was a post-it note on the coffee maker, and Ryan pulled it off, a smile stretching across his face as he read the familiar scrawl. "I figured you'd miss me this morning, so I filled the coffee maker with Blue Hawaiian, just for you. Love you. –G."

Ryan couldn't make the grin disappear off his face as he pushed the button to start the coffee. In fact, he maintained his grin and his blissful sense of contentment all the way until he reached the locker room at work. There, his smile turned into a deep frown as he stared at his locker, his hand still half raised to enter the combination. There it was, scrawled in angry letters across the top right corner. "FAG."

He sighed deeply. He knew his sexuality would be an issue; he always had. It had started to become an issue when he and Greg were first together, but now that he and Greg were engaged, the hate seemed to be coming at them from all directions. Rick Stetler from IAB had made a visit to Ryan's desk to inform him that once he and Greg were married, one of them would have to change shifts. Oh, and, just for Ryan's information, Rick had informed him with a calm smirk that the department did not offer benefits to same sex couples.

And it was worse with many of the police officers. Some that Ryan had even worked with when he worked patrol wouldn't even look him in the eye, and others were blatantly hostile.

Absentmindedly, Ryan traced the letters with one finger, then sighed and shook his head as he went and got some paper towel and wet it in the sink. "Just like high school all over again," he murmured aloud as he scrubbed at the writing.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Wolfe?" H's concerned voice startled Ryan, who turned to see Horatio standing in the doorway, twisting his sunglasses in his hands.

Ryan shrugged. "Just someone being an asshole, H. Nothing you need to worry about."

Horatio walked over, his brow furrowed. "Mr. Wolfe, you should know that harassment of any kind is not tolerated. If you have any idea who might be responsible for this—"

Laughing shortly, Ryan looked away. "You're asking me to name half the MDPD, H. Since Greg and I got engaged, there's been a lot of angry sentiment floating around. We've been dealing with it. It's really not a big deal."

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?" Horatio asked softly.

Ryan looked up at him. "Just don't tell Greg," he said, his voice just as soft as Horatio's. "Greg's got more than enough on his plate to deal with. He doesn't need this right now." Horatio nodded once before clapping him on the shoulder and leaving. Ryan looked back at the partially smeared letters. He sighed again. "Neither do I."

Greg Sanders tapped his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently as he waited at a red light. His testimony in court had gone as well as it could, given that the particular evidence he had presented had been largely circumstantial. Thankfully, the defense attorney hadn't been the best, because he really should've ripped Greg apart in cross-examination. Still, the rest of the evidence had been solid, and even without the circumstantial DNA and trace, the case was pretty much closed.

Which was good, because Greg's mind was not filled with the details of the case as it should have been, but instead with thoughts of hotel arrangements and wedding cake and other general wedding plans. This whole wedding thing was turning out a hell of a lot harder than he had anticipated. Neither the Las Vegas team nor the Miami CSIs could work out a time in their schedule where they could all be together until late December. And then, of course, California passed Proposition 8, which had shot all of Greg's plans even more to hell.

Luckily, Greg's mom had stepped in and had been more than helpful, even though she was all the way over in California. While not entirely comfortable with the fact that her only son had turned out to be gay, she went along with a gusto only found in those that love weddings. She had found the perfect venue for them, a beautiful old lodge in Connecticut, where gay marriage was legal. She had contacted the government there to ensure that all their documentation was in order (though since their marriage was null and void in Florida, Greg didn't really see what it mattered). Oh, and on top of everything, she and Greg's father were completely footing the bill.

All jokes about how Greg was now technically the bride aside, he was more than grateful to his parents. After all, what did he know about planning a wedding? If he had his way, he'd be getting married wearing a Marilyn Manson t-shirt and his old Converse tennis shoes. Both his mother and Ryan had nixed that idea, though he had a few cards up his sleeves in regards to that.

The colors would be simple and classic, well-chosen for winter: black, white, red and silver. The tuxes had been ordered; everything was set. On Greg's side, Gil Grissom was his best man, with Catherine filling in as Matron of Honor (though he told her she could pass as Maid of Honor, she had insisted that Matron was fine), Sara as his bridesmaid—a title she found most hilarious, and Nick rounding out the party as a groomsman. Ryan's side featured Horatio as Best Man with Calleigh as Maid of Honor, Eric as a groomsman, and Alexx as a bridesmaid.

While Greg's parents were more than happy to walk him down the aisle and give him away, the plan hit a snag with regards to Ryan's family. While Greg's parents, while not openly receptive to the idea, had eventually come around to the fact that their son was gay, when Ryan had told his parents years before that he was gay, they had essentially excommunicated him. Greg had tried to surreptitiously figure out a way to get in contact with them, but Ryan had been firm in his resolve: he did not want them there. They had no place in his life.

And Greg would feel awkward with his parents walking him down the aisle when Ryan's weren't even in attendance, so they had compromised on the walking down the aisle thing. They would walk from the sides, meeting each other in the middle. It was the perfect solution that satisfied both of them. And no one would give anyone away.

Greg pulled over next the yellow crime tape fluttering in the breeze and put the Hummer into park. Ryan and Horatio were supposed to meet him here in a few minutes, but Greg didn't see why he couldn't get started on the pictures before everyone else arrived. He got out of the Hummer and retrieved his kit from the back before ducking under the crime tape. He raised a hand in friendly greeting to the two officers leaning against the patrol car on the other side of the crime scene as he headed over the DB.

"Hey look," one of the officers said to the other in a loud voice that carried across the crime scene. "Here comes the fag, all dressed in drag! Pretty good, huh?"

Greg stopped in his tracks and looked over at the officer, his mouth practically falling open in shock at the words that had just come out of the officer's mouth. "Excuse me?" he spluttered, his voice incredulous.

The officer just looked over at the other cop—who was looking vaguely uncomfortable—and grinned widely. "I think you heard me just fine, queer. But if you want to come over here and make something of it, that's fine with me."

A muscle twitched in Greg's jaw, and it took every ounce of his willpower to turn and walk away. "That's right, fag!" the officer called after him, his voice taking on a triumphant tone. "Walk away, just like your pussy boyfriend." To the other cop, he said, loudly enough so Greg could hear, "You know, I heard when Wolfe got shot in the eyes with a nail gun, he acted like a read, screaming and crying like a little girl. Shoulda known then he was a queer. Guy shoulda finished him off when he had a chance."

Something inside Greg snapped at that. Crossing to the officer in three strides, Greg grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and slammed him back against the patrol car. "Listen to me, you fucking asshole," Greg growled, his teeth clenched. "You can say whatever the fuck you want about me, but Ryan is ten times the cop and ten times the man you'll ever be." Greg paused, a small, bitter smile twisting his features. "Just because you're jealous since all you're getting is self-service—"

Without warning, the officer punched Greg in the face. Greg stumbled backwards from the force of the blow, his vision alternately patchy and blurry, barely conscious of the fact that blood was now pouring from his nose. His dimly heard the other officer calling in for a ambulance, and his protests to the cop that had hit Greg, but this did not deter the officer. "Call me queer again, faggot, and I'll make sure you get what's coming for you."

Suddenly, Greg felt a set of hands supporting him, keeping him upright, and he looked over to see Ryan standing there next to him, like some kind of a miracle. "Ryan," Greg whispered.

Ryan did not meet his eyes. His jaw was set and his face was dark. "Are you ok?" he asked in undertone. "If I let you go, can you stand?" Greg barely had time to nod before Ryan was striding over the officer. "Hey Mitchells," Ryan called, his eyes burning with hatred and fury. "Why are you so pissy today? Your ass still hurting from the banging it got last night?"

"Why, you—" snarled Mitchells, lunging for Ryan, but Ryan was already there. His fist connected with Mitchells torso, making a sickening thud and sending Mitchells in a crumpled heap to the ground.

Ryan turned him over onto his back with his foot, then placed his foot on Mitchells' throat, pressing down against his windpipe. "If you ever lay a hand on Greg again," Ryan said, his voice quiet but clear, even as his fingers inched towards his gun, "I will kill you. That is not a threat; it's a guarantee."

Then Horatio was there, with three other officers. Ryan was forcibly pulled away, and Officer Mitchells was restrained by two cops. "Officers, please escort Officer Mitchells back to PD," Horatio said, not looking at Mitchells as he said it.

Mitchells spat on the ground in front of Ryan. "Once a cop, always a cop doesn't apply to fags," he growled, glaring at Ryan with intense hatred. "And I'm sure as hell not the only one who thinks so."

As Mitchells was led away, Ryan turned to Horatio. "H, I—"

"Three days suspension, no pay," Horatio said calmly. "For you and Greg."

Ryan opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. "What about IAB?" he asked softly.

Horatio put his sunglasses on. "Leave IAB to me." He nodded over towards Greg. "In the meantime, see to Greg. He looks like he may need to go to the hospital."

In an instant, Ryan had forgotten all about suspensions and IAB, his only concern being Greg. "Greg?" he asked, his voice instantly gentle as he reached out to touch Greg's cheek, which already looked bruised and swollen. "Greg, your nose is still bleeding. Are you all right, love? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Greg did not look all right. He looked dazed, and deathly pale. "No," he whispered, taking a step back from Ryan, swaying slightly on his feet as he did so. "No, I'm not all right. I need…I need air. I need to breathe."

Ryan frowned, and though he didn't take another step towards him, he did reach out to grab Greg's hand. "What's wrong? Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital?"

"No, no doctors, no hospitals, no sterile smells and boring taupe walls," Greg said softly, babbling almost, and shaking his head as if to clear it. Then he grew still, his body tense, and without meeting Ryan's eyes, he said, "No, I need…I need to get out of Miami…clear my head…think things through."

Ryan's breath caught in his throat, and it felt as if his heart had stopped beating. "Please don't leave me," he whispered hoarsely.

Greg looked up at him quickly, then drew him closer to him and kissed him fiercely on the mouth. "I would never leave you," he whispered, his own voice as rough as his kiss. "I love you." Then he pulled away slightly. "I just need to get away for a few days…pre-wedding jitters, you know? I think I'm gonna head to Vegas for a day or two."

"But you'll come back, right?" Ryan asked softly, hating how vulnerable he sounded, how vulnerable he was. "Because if you left me again, I would die."

Swallowing, Greg shook his head, his eyes instantly pained at the memory. "I will never hurt you like that again. You are my life, my heart, my soul," he whispered, looking Ryan straight in the eyes, though something in Greg's eyes seemed distant.

"Promise?"

Greg brought Ryan's hands up to his mouth and kissed Ryan's knuckles. "I promise."

Then he turned and walked back to the Hummer, while Ryan stood alone, left with nothing but sore knuckles and a heart full of confusion.