A/N: The idea for this fic came to me quite a while ago, and has just been building from there and taking over most of my spare time. It's gotten to the point where my other fic is suffering (read: sucking) because this one keeps my concentration. I have the plot all written down, I basically just have to fill in the holes and post them. It's not the normal CSI fic by any means, and I generally do not care for, or write, AU stories, but I think if you give this one a try you will enjoy it.
Obligatory Diclaimer: CSI is not mine and I make no profit off of this story...unfortunately.
Livin' on a Prayer, Chapter 1. Enjoy...
We've got to hold on to what we've got
'Cause it doesn't make a difference If we make it or not
We've got to hold on ready or not
You live for the fight when it's all that you've got
Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear
Livin' on a prayer
-Bon Jovi
He could hear the steps behind him gaining momentum, the sickening smack as leather soles made contact with wet cobblestones resonated off the surrounding buildings. He dared not look back, he shouldn't...couldn't...wouldn't look back. The jeers from emaciated tenants leaning out of the safety of their windows, taunting Greg with their freedom, informed him of his losing battle.
"They're gaining on you boy, you'd better hurry!" An old woman, frazzled hairs whipping in the wind, growled as he ran past.
He tried to push harder, pump his legs faster, anything to keep some distance between himself and his pursuer. He would swear, right hand on the Bible (not that it counted for much now), that he could feel the hot breath down his back, and his legs weren't going to take him much further. And then he is flying, and for a second he thought that maybe this was what it felt like, this is what it feels like to die. The mirage, however, is cut short by the painful slap of his worn hands on the hard ground as he manages to catch himself, saving his face from certain unauthorized reassignment. The force of being hit from behind oppresses any hopes he held in coming out of this adventure unscathed as his cheek met ruthlessly with the stone, sending blinding pain resonating through his skull. Humorlessly he thinks that if this had been a program on his beloved Sunday morning cartoons, little yellow birdies would be spinning cheekily over his head.
Raising his head slowly he is faced with the soles of leather boots, the same boots that had been chasing him moments ago. Eyes wide, Greg slowly pushed his protesting knees underneath him, praying they will hold as he rises to take in the sight that lays before him. Frozen and gaping, he holds the position for what seemed like hours, unsure of his body and the myriad of potential moves coursing through his brain. The sudden hand grasping his shoulder forces a shriek from his lips, followed closely by a heaving sob. All of his efforts, his pain, his planning had been for naught. His run was over and he now he would pay for what he had done. Supposedly done, he reminds himself hastily. With baited breath he waits for the last blow, face overcome with a look of utter shock and confusion as strong arms lift him to his feet, urging him to run once more.
Turning, he catches only the back of the person who had come to his aid. His breath hitches, catching in his throat. He knows that back, the name slips breathlessly though his chapped lips...
"Nick"
Legs wobbling unsteadily he stumbles forward, pushing against the exhaustion that threatens to overtake him. He wasn't ready to lose the only person he could trust in this world, not again. Not for anything. Breaking into a stumbling lope he turns the corner just to see the figure disappear around another turn. Not again, not now. Not again, not now. The words became a mantra in his mind, a reminder of what could happen if he was caught, what would happen if he was caught. Pulling strength from these words he throws his body forward, adrenaline pushing him as he rounds the next turn, catching sight of a seemingly simple wooden door. Stepping inside he pulls the small door tightly shut, searching for a lock and coming up empty he looks forward, emitting a groan of defeat at the stairs that face him. Driven purely by the hope that his friend lay waiting at the top, he lifts a heavy foot onto the first stair.
"Easy does it." he reassures himself softly. "Just one step at a time"
And with those sound words of advice he begins to climb, the metal stairs giving off a faint ringing sound as his bare feet push against them. Reaching the first landing, Greg collapses against the iron railing, gasping desperately for air and pulling it painfully into his lungs. Not trusting himself to have the ability to pick himself up off the floor, he settles for leaning heavily on the railing, telling himself it is just for a bit. Bits however, become minutes, and he soon accepts that he will not be finishing this marathon anytime soon. And then he hears it, like the angels of his childhood books...well, not quite, but nonetheless he hears it.
"Greg!"
The hushed voice floats down from the rafters high above, and it is all he can do to lift his heavy head towards the sound.
"C'mon Greg, we have to keep moving!"
And for a split second Greg can see him, leaning dangerously over the railing, arm outstretched, motioning for Greg to hurry. They haven't got much time. And then he is gone, again.
With renewed strength he is able to push himself from the railing, surging towards the stairs, not even bothering to stand up straight as he climbs them on all fours. Legs and arms pumping he can hear his friend just ahead, climbing the stairs just as he himself is climbing them, they are in this together. Passing another landing he doesn't even take time to stop and rest, a smile spreads across his face as he catches a glimpse of Nick's shoes as he turns to start up the next flight. He's catching up!
And just as the thought passes through his mind, a wicked groan causes Greg to pause. Whipping his head forcefully towards the sound he pushes himself onto two feet to peer over the banister. A small sound from the back of his throat bounds down the stairwell, just as Nick's had only moments ago, and like Nick's words this sound seeped into the ears of the person standing at the bottom of the stairs. The man in the leather boots. With a burst of adrenaline pumping through his veins Greg began to climb once more, two steps at a time now. Nick would protect him, he just had to make it to the top and everything would be okay. The sound of leather meeting metal as the man races up the stairs behind him sends chills down Greg's spine as he fights to stay ahead.
And then he's there. At the top, facing another door. Twisting the knob viciously he throws himself against it and it opens easily, he stumbles through. The breath leaves his lungs for a split second, because Nick's there, standing in front of him and his legs are numb and he can't breath but it's okay because Nick is there and he is safe. A weakened sob escapes his lips as he struggles forward, reaching for his friend, but Nick remains still, smiling. And as he drags himself forward the smile on Nick's face morphs, transforming itself into a tight smirk and it frightens him but he can't stop the forward motion of his body. Reaching Nick he grasps for the fabric of his shirt and clings to it like it's the last life preserver on a sinking ship as the door behind him is slammed open again and the man in the leather boots steps through.
"Nick. Nicky, please help me!" he gasped, eyes wide and panicked.
And finally, Nick moves. Raising his arms to place a strong hand on each side of Greg's face, he pulls them together.
"End of the line, Greggo," he whispers menacingly, pushing the younger man away.
The words cut through Greg like a knife as he stumbles backwards, mouth gaping, opening and closing like a fish stranded on the end of a hook, gasping for air.
"No, no, no..." the words grow from whispers to screams as the ice cold grip of the booted man clamps down on his arms and he is being pulled away from Nick and into the darkness of the stairwell...
"Greg, Greg wake up. C'mon Greg, wake up." the frantic words invaded his brain, as though someone was calling out for him underwater, trying to break into his thoughts with an icepick. His world bucked and swayed mercilessly as he fought to open his heavy lids, held closed as though covered in cement. And as the words begin to right themselves and the distance between dream and reality lessen, the grip of Nick's strong hands around his arms allows them to clash once more as he fights against the binding fingers of his captor.
No, no, no...
With one last forceful shake, the ties are broken and Greg's eyelids fly open, distraught and filled with fear his heart beats painfully against his chest, leaving him gasping for air. Weezing from the effort he turns to realize that he's got a death grip on Nick's shirt, knuckles white and aching. Nick's hands gently aid him in releasing the grip after how own attempts fall short, a mild blush rising to his cheeks, embarrased by his lack of bodily control.
"Hey man, you alright?" Nick's voice is low, worried. "I wasn't gonna wake you, but the horses...they were freaking out a bit." He chuckles nervously, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to where the horses were tied for the night.
"Yea...sorry. 'M fine." he forced a small smile, breaths still coming in heavy gasps. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Nah, it's fine man."
He nods easily, the silense between them awkward and uncomfortable.
"Then I'm just gonna try and get some more shut-eye before we have to get moving again..."
Nodding, Greg turns away from his friend, pulling the cover of the sleeping bag across his body and curling into it, eyes closed. Still, he can sense Nick's eyes on his back, wondering if he is okay and how much longer these nightmares will last. He knew his friend was scared for him, but attempts to get him to talk about the dreams had been shut down quickly, he didn't want to drag Nick into his problems, but that plan was obviously flawed as the dreams became increasingly violent and frightening, so did Greg's responses. The shuffling behind him let Greg know that Nick was laying back down and would soon be fast asleep. But as Greg squeezed his eyes against the prickling of tears, he knew that sleep would not be coming for him tonight.
Confused? That's good :) Don't worry, it will be better explained in the next chaper :D
Please, R&R...
