Basement Confessions
Rather Long One Shot
AUTHOR: Lolly4Holly
PAIRINGS: Nick/Greg Pre-Slash
WARNINGS: Adult Content, Smut, M/M Slash, Violence, Gore, Horror
SUMMARY: Captured and held prisoner against their will, Nick and Greg struggle to survive under a serial killer's thumb, making a few last minute confessions as they see the end nearing.
This will be my 60th story uploaded on Fanfiction and I celebrate it with my two favourite boys. Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it.
~ Holly
"I… can't. They're too tight." Nick struggled with the restraints around his wrists, glancing over his shoulder to see if his partner was having better luck.
A routine sweep of a crime scene had landed them in the hands of the very man they had been hunting. He thought he was being cautious, but a shadow over threw him in the dimly lit kitchen. He had hoped that Greg might have got away, but when he came to, he was tied to a chair with his back to Greg in what looked like a basement. An eerie musty old basement that hadn't been touched in years.
Other than the empty work bench, the cobwebs in the corners, the plastic sheeting on the floor and the staircase leading up the next floor, he couldn't see much of anything to gauge whether they were still in the same house or not.
He didn't even remember seeing a door to a basement, but they hadn't been there that long.
"Hey, Greg… talk to me." He tilted his head back to see his partner. "How you doin'?"
"Dumb question." Greg attempted to pull his wrists out of their restraints again, but he only felt the metal cutting deeper. He gave his ankle a twist by the leg of the chair, but the cable tie wasn't budging either. "He'll be back any moment. Then he's gonna do the same thing to us that he did…"
"Hey, don't think like that." Nick straightened up in his seat, shoulder to shoulder with the younger man now. "We'll get out of this, okay. I promise you I'll get you out of here."
"How? You're as stuck as me."
"I'm… still figurin' that part out." He admitted, resting the back of his head to Greg's. "Grissom knows where we are. The officer outside is supposed to check on us every couple of minutes. Even if our suspect got to him, he has to report to control on our situation. If they don't get a response, they'll send out another squad car. They're probably already immobilisin' a team to come get us."
"You said if too many times." Greg spoke softly, taking comfort in the fact that he was with the one man he would rather spend his last few hours on this Earth with.
"Hey," Nick titled his head back against the younger man's shoulder. "I promised I'll get you through this and I don't plan on breakin' my promise."
"I don't think we're in the same house." His partner broke it to him. "I haven't heard a single car go by since we woke up. The victim's house was near a busy road. I remember hearing all the cars going by as we searched the house."
Nick gave out a soft sigh, realising he was right. He turned as much as he could in his chair to get his bearings, but the basement didn't even have a window. "Hey, maybe this part of the house is sound proofed."
"Look at the holes in the ceiling," The younger man turned his attention towards it. "Does it look sound proof to you?" He snipped.
"Alright, don't get mad at me. We have to stick together if we want to get through this."
Greg burst into a giggle, shaking his head at the man. "We're literally tied together. We couldn't be more stuck if we tried."
"You know what I meant." Nick spoke seriously a moment, looking over at the work bench just a few feet from them. "Help me rock the chairs in that direction."
"Shouldn't we just stay put?"
"And wait for the psycho serial killer to come back? I don't think so. C'mon, shift your weight from one side to the other. Use your feet." The Texan started rocking the chair on his side, until they were both scooting towards the work bench across the room. He knew it was probably a long shot that their captor actually left any tools inside it, but he figured that it was worth a shot. "That's it… just a little further."
"Something tells me he didn't leave his handcuff keys just lying around."
"Less moanin'… more shiftin'…" Nick made the last scoot towards the work bench, breathing out a deep breath of relief as they made it. "Good… now you grab the bottom of this drawer on your side and I'll grab it mine. We should be able to ease it out."
"My fingers don't bend that way." Greg attempted to extend his fingers away from the arm of the chair, but it only made the handcuff around his wrist pinch a little tighter. "That's it, we're screwed." He sighed in defeat.
"Use your elbow." He ordered.
"What?" Greg turned his body as much as he could to see what the older man was doing.
"Like this… c'mon Greg, I need your help to get us out of this."
"It's probably empty anyway." Greg dropped his arm back to the arm of his chair, attempting to hook his elbow beneath the drawer. He groaned as the thing wouldn't budge, deciding to give up rather than give into the partner's attempt at false hope. "It's no use. We're going to die. No first, he's going to cut us into lots of little pieces while we're still alive, then you and I really will be inseparable for eternity."
"You say that like it's a bad thing." The man behind him joked, resting their heads together again.
"I guess there are worse people to spend the afterlife with. Ecklie." Greg shuddered in his seat. "So, what's your plan now, Tex?" He inquired.
"When he comes back, I'll go first. You use the time to get yourself out of here, while he's distracted. It'll be easier if there's just one of us tied to this thing. I might even be able to knock one of his tools off and throw it your way."
"You think I'm gonna run away while a psycho cuts you into lots of little pieces?"
"I want you to." Nick turned his head to the side, trying to look into the younger man's eyes. "I don't want anythin' to happen to you. I'd die before I let that happen."
Both men glanced towards the ceiling above them as they heard footsteps, watching small particles of dust and dirt falling through the cracks in the floorboards. They gulped in perfect synchronisation with one another, realising that this was well and truly the end.
"Hey, Greg." The Texan mumbled in a barely audible whisper. "I'm sorry I got you into this."
"I believe Grissom gave us the assignment. If anyone is to blame here…"
"Yeah, but I requested to work with you before you even got to the lab." He felt a shiver running down his spine, distinctly hearing a key opening a lock at the top of the stairs. "I always ask Grissom if I can work with you, because it's the only way I can be close to you without actually tellin' you."
"Telling me what?" Greg shrunk back in his seat, listening to the heavy footsteps getting louder and louder as their suspect made their way into the basement with them.
"That I love you, Greg." Nick blurted it right out, watching the man ahead of him smoothing his hand across the banister on his way down the stairs. He felt his heart hammering in his throat, but he had to get his confession out. "I think I've loved you since the first moment that I saw you. I ask to work with you on every assignment, just so I can be close to you."
Greg allowed a smile to spread across his lips, despite the terror of their situation. "This isn't one of those things that you're just saying because you know you're going to die and you won't have to deal with it after, right?" He heard the footsteps going across concrete now, guessing he was in the room with them.
"No… I swear it. I love you, G." He used the familiar nickname Greg had heard too often. He dreaded to think that this might be the last time.
"In that case… I love you too."
"Wow… you really… you really love me?" Nick marvelled, keeping an eye on the man across the room. He appeared to be taking his time, suiting himself up with gloves, a stained old apron and a welding mask. He didn't see much of his face on the way down, but he could still his slick black hair being pinned into place by the support of the mask. "Hey Greg… you're not… you're not just sayin' that because we're about to die, are you?"
"No, I mean it." Greg quaked in his seat. He rubbed his shoulders against Nick's taking comfort in the warmth of the man's body. "I love you, Nick."
The sudden crack of a hand across Nick's face, wiped the weak smile off Greg's lips. He clenched his hands into the arms of his chair, lifting his gaze as their masked assailant made his way in front of him.
Greg gulped.
Instead of giving him a slap across the face, the man just stood over him, looking at him like he was a piece of meat. The man had a thrall of darkness surrounding him. His scare factor was flawless. He didn't even have to do anything but stand and leer over him.
Greg had always wanted to work out in the field, hunting down serial killers like the famous Zodiac killer, but he never thought he'd see one up close and personal like this. It was unnerving to say the least. This was the man who sliced off the fingers, toes, hands, feet and more from his victims while they were still alive, before he dumped them somewhere they could be found.
The last victim was Kathy Pearce, forty three. They were supposed to be searching her house today, but they barely got a look round it before they were abducted themselves. Kathy worked as an accountant for a car salesman. She didn't have much of a social life, but she was sweet on her boss. The two of them had been working together going on eight years, until Kathy was abducted and taken to a place like this. What was left of her was found by a homeless man outside his favourite skip for scavenging. She was stuffed into a trash bag like all the others, left to be pieced together by the coroner at their lab.
Not her head though. None of the victims' heads were found, making the younger man gulp again. How could his mother bury him without his head?
Satisfied that he had terrified his next victim enough, the man turned away from his restrained prey, making his way back to the stairs. Neither of them dare let out a breath, until they heard the door locking back into place at the top.
"Well… I think we can both agree that he picked me to go first." Greg muttered, shifting himself in his seat. "Nick?" He waited for a response, but he was so quiet. "Are you okay? Did he…"
"No… I'm… Yeah, I'm okay." The older man finally answered, breathing out a deep breath he had been holding in. He licked away the blood from the corner of his mouth, letting out a small smirk. "Man, my timin' really sucks. I thought for sure that you would never be interested in me."
"Sure. What's not to like?" His voice was trembling, but he found the courage to make a confession of his own. "I've always thought you were gorgeous… funny, sexy, kind and caring. I love that whole Texan charm thing you have going. When you smile, you light up a whole room. There's no one else I would rather be in a situation like this with."
"Thanks." Nick took in a shaky breath, hearing the footsteps returning. "Listen G," He whispered, shivering as he heard the door unlocking once again. "He didn't lock the door when he came down here. When he cuts you lose, I'll distract him and you make a run for it."
"I'm not leaving you." Greg refused.
"Greg, don't be an idiot." He snapped. "You have to get out of here. There's no point in both of us dyin' down here. You can get out."
"I'm not leaving you here to die." The younger man insisted, clutching the chair tightly as their captor trudged his way down the stairs. He couldn't see him from his position, but his footsteps alone were terrifying enough. He felt his hands shivering at his sides as the man got closer, bypassing Nick to go directly for him this time.
"Don't touch him." Nick shouted before he could get close. He turned himself in his chair, looking at the welder's mask the guy was using to hide his face. "Don't you dare touch him!" He ordered him this time, sensing he had pissed him off.
The suspect abandoned Greg's side of the chair, stepping in front of Nick instead. He stood completely motionless for a minute or so, just staring at the man in front of him. Another minute alive didn't bother Nick, but he was starting to wish he would hurry up with whatever he was planning on doing, rather than leaving them in suspense like this.
"No." Nick saw him change direction, returning to Greg behind him. He fought against his restraints, trying to rock the chairs, anything to get himself loose. "Don't touch him."
This time he pulled something out of the deep pocket of his apron, tapping the base of it, before he brought it to Greg's arms. A needle. The younger man tried to move in his restraints, battling the advance as much as he could, but he was powerless to stop the needle from going into his arm. His vision started to cloud as his arm went cold. He could hear Nick's muffled screams of protest as his restraints were unlocked and the ties around his ankles were cut, but he couldn't lift a finger, let alone run for the stairs like Nick planned.
He was relieved that he was no longer sitting in the chair, but lying on a plastic covered floor wasn't much of an improvement. It was still wet from the last victim he had dismembered.
He wondered if it was Kathy Pearce. He wondered if she was more terrified since she was by herself or if their serial killer had a habit of taking two people at once.
"Please… please…" Nick resorted to begging him. "Don't hurt him. Take me. Do anythin' you want to me. Just don't hurt him." He didn't want anything to happen to Greg and he certainly didn't want to watch, but his protests were falling on deaf ears.
He started shaking in his seat with tears streaming down his cheeks, watching the man using a pair of scissors to cut away Greg's clothes. He slid the sharp blade across the length of his t-shirt first, rolling him over with his foot like a ragdoll to get the back. He tossed it aside, stripping him of his belt, before he started cutting open his jeans.
Greg could only breathe, listening to the muffled desperate pleas of the older man across the room. He could feel his arms sprawled out either side of him. He just couldn't move them. He wanted to work out in the field at the lab to get closer to the victims rather than just viewing them as a case number on a file or a box, but this wasn't exactly what he had in mind.
He tried to stay awake. Tried to stay focused so he could get them both out of there, but he couldn't fight it any longer. He was out cold before the first blade slid through his skin.
When he came to, every centimetre of his body ached, almost as though he had been trampled on by a stampede of wild animals. He took a moment to breathe in a few deep breaths, realising he was back on the chair again. Practically bare arsed on the wooden splinters, since his boxers were riding up, but it was a much better feeling than the cold plastic sheeting on the concrete floor.
But he could smell blood.
Fingers. He wiggled each of his fingers, making sure he still had all ten of them. Hands. He had both hands, his arms and his chest. He could see his thighs and he guessed his male equipment was still attached, but there was a cold tingling feeling coming from his leg. He leant forwards to look at them, making sure he could wiggle all of his toes. His feet were still attached. He took comfort in that little fact for a moment, before he cast his eyes towards the blood on his leg.
Skinned.
He had been skinned.
Greg thought he should take comfort in that little fact, but slowly being flayed alive seemed much worse than being chopped into little pieces.
"Nick?" His throat felt dry and scratchy, but he couldn't feel the older man behind him. "Nick?" He turned around as much as he could, finding the chair behind him empty. He felt chills running throughout his body, until he cast his eyes towards the plastic tarp on the floor.
The Texan was lying flat on his stomach across the plastic, his jeans were still in place, but his shirt had been cut away, leaving his beautiful broad shoulders exposed. He could see blood coming from his arm furthest away from him, but he couldn't see how badly he was hurt.
"Nick?" Greg tilted his head all the way around to see if their serial killer was about, but it looked as though they had been left on their own again. "Nicky, c'mon. Get up." Pressing his feet to the ground, Greg struggled to shift the chairs by himself, trying to get closer to the man. "Ah… c'mon, Greg." He felt the pain in his leg now he was moving.
Doctor Robbins had a theory that the victims were skinned after their limbs had been cut from their body, but it looked like he had proven him wrong on that theory. Lucky for him, or he'd be trying to shimmy himself towards Nick with one leg.
Two legs were better than one.
He shifted the chair.
Stretched out his foot.
Wriggled in his seat.
"C'mon, Greg." He encouraged himself.
He hoofed it a little further, taking a moment to breathe.
Less than a few feet from the older man now, he could see that he was still alive, just out. Probably from the same injection he had given him. He couldn't reach him with his hand, but he could just about manage to poke him with his toe.
"C'mon, Nick. Please wake up." He jabbed at his leg again and again, catching the older man's fingers curling ever so slightly. He stopped as he heard the familiar footsteps above them, feeling his heart racing as the dust and dirt fell free from the floorboards. "Nick, you have to get up." He extended his foot as far as he could, stamping it down on the older man's leg.
Dazed and confused, Nick managed to lift his head, getting his bearings as the drugs started to wear off.
"Nick," He heard the younger man's voice through the fog. "Get up now. Nick!"
The door unlocked at the top of the stairs.
"Nick, c'mon. Nick… Get up!" Greg kicked him again, feeling his heart racing as the heavy footsteps came stamping down the stairs a little faster than normal. The suspect came charging towards him like a battering ram, delivering a heavy right hook to his jaw, almost toppling over the chairs in the process.
Big mistake.
Desperate anger pushed Nick into a commando crawl, grunting with pain the whole way, but no one hurt Greg and got away with it. He weakly lunged at the suspect's ankles, catching him off guard just enough to pull him away from Greg.
With a heavy boot, the man kicked Nick in the side, rolling him over onto his back. He stomped down on his chest a few times until he stopped fighting, before he attempted to lift the Texan back into the chair and back into his restraints.
He stomped his way back upstairs a moment later, locking the door back into place behind him.
"Are you okay?" Nick's voice came out as a hoarse whisper, followed by a cough.
"Am I okay? You're the one we should be worrying about here." Greg licked the side of his mouth, feeling his jaw starting to throb from the punch. He tilted his head to the side, making sure that Nick was still with him. "I thought you were gone… if we die here…"
"Greg, don't talk like that." He cut him off.
"I have to say it." Greg insisted, looking into his eyes. "If we die here, I want you to know… I want you to know that you're the best friend that I ever had. I never really had one in High school… or college actually… but you made up for that the moment I met you." He rested their heads together, listening to the older man's raspy breaths. "I've never known anyone like you... I've never met anyone so selfless and loving towards a perfect stranger. I love how you wear your heart on your sleeve… always putting yourself before others… and I'm super bummed that I won't get to kiss you before I die."
"Me too." Nick's voice broke with emotion. He tilted his head back against the younger man's shoulder, taking comfort in his warmth. "You realise he's super pissed at us now. That's when they start to make mistakes."
"You're assuming that this psycho plays by the normal set of rules. He just hacked a chunk of skin from your arm for no entire reason, Nicky. I'm missing the skin from my leg."
"Yeah." The Texan turned his wrist, looking at the strip of skin he had cut away from his forearm. It didn't look quite as bad as Greg's leg, but it itched like crazy. Not that he could reach it. "This would explain why some body parts were older than others. From what he could tell, Doc Robbins said the victims didn't have drugs in their systems, so he can't dose us every time. Probably because they weren't a threat to him after a certain point."
"Great, we'll just wait until we don't have any skin, no arms, no legs, then we'll make our move on him." Greg sarcastically remarked, starting to freak out a little. "Maybe we should try the screaming for help thing again, that seemed like a good plan or tap Morse code against the pipes."
"Do you know Morse code?"
"No." The younger man sighed softly, clutching the arms of his chair tightly in his hands. "I'll add it to the list of things I wished I learned how to do before my untimely death." He shifted his sore leg in his restraints, feeling a tear trickling down his cheek. "My Mom doesn't even know that I'm a CSI."
"You didn't tell her?"
"No… she was pissed enough when I told her I was leaving for Las Vegas. She freaked out when she found out about the lab explosion. Do you really think she'd be okay with the fact that I now work out in the field, putting my life on the line every single day?" He shifted himself in his seat again, bumping his head against Nick's behind him. "I think I would have rather died in the lab explosion than this."
"I'm glad you didn't." Nick leant back, shoulder to shoulder with the younger man again. "Not includin' today, that was one of the worst days of my life. I hated seein' you like that in the hospital. I would have done anythin' to trade places with you." He breathed in a deep breath, thinking up another plan. "Hey… I have an idea. Actually, it was kind of your idea…"
"Does it get us out of this basement and back to civilisation?"
"I hope so." He straightened up in his seat, looking towards the stairs. "I need you to play dead for me."
"Play dead?" Greg practically shrieked at him. "That's your plan. The big master plan that's going to get us out of here? You're the one who got kicked in the guts, you play dead. It doesn't make any sense for me to play dead. I got slugged in the jaw; you were practically beaten to a pulp."
"Okay, okay," Nick agreed with him. He realised how freaked out he was by the tone of his voice. "I'll get us out of here, Greg. You just have to relax for me, okay?"
"Easy for you to say." He took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out through his nostrils.
"Okay, I'll play dead. But you have to scream for help."
"And what exactly is your master plan for when he comes down here?" Greg asked, tilting his head back to look at the older man. "We're both tied up and he's not exactly a talkative person."
"Let me worry about that." He adjusted himself in his chair, looking into the younger man's eyes. "I promised I'd get you out of this, G. I'm gonna keep my promise." Nick gave him a half smile, looking at his lips just a few inches away, but still just out of his reach. "In order for this to work, you have to make it believable. You have to get him down here, Greg. Let me worry about the rest."
"I think I can make it believable enough." Greg tried to keep his teeth from chattering for a moment, before he gave the man a nod. "Okay… I think I can do it."
"A'ight… do your thing, G."
"Nick…" He breathed in a deep breath. "Before… before we do this… there's one more thing I should tell you."
"Anythin'."
"I've never… I've never been with a guy. Not all the way anyway. I had the opportunity in college, but I… I lost my nerve. I bailed out of there before anything got serious. I've always been too chicken to try again… so I never really got around to it."
"Are you tryin' to tell me that you're a virgin?"
Greg nodded his head. "Yep… near enough anyway. Not that it matters now. The first guy to see me naked… really naked is going to be the very man who plans to chop me up into little pieces, but keep my head. What do you suppose he does with the heads? Why would someone need other people's heads?" His teeth started to chatter a little more loudly.
"Don't think about that right now, Greg." He tried to get his focus back. "Focus on gettin' out of here. I'm gonna get you out; I just need your help. Can you call out to him for me?"
The younger man sniffled back his tears, giving him another nod. "Alright," He stretched his wrists inside the handcuffs, clearing his throat, before he called out for help. He tried to sound sincere and terrified that something had happened to Nick, which came out a lot easier than he thought. He almost felt a little sick from just the thought of it being real.
Finally the door unlocked.
"Please, please you have to help him!" Greg desperately called out to the monster, listening to the clunky footsteps of the man's boots coming down the stairs behind him. "I don't know what's wrong with him. He was choking. He said he couldn't breathe… then he just passed out." He tried to sell it, struggling to see the man making his way towards them. "He can't breathe. You have to help him."
Greg twisted in his chair, watching the man in the welder's mask getting closer to the man he loved. He tapped Nick's cheek with his gloved hand, before he poked him in the ribs. Nick managed to stay surprisingly still through it all, making Greg a little terrified that it might be real.
"No… what are you doing?" He saw the man reaching into his apron. If he drugged him again, the plan would fail. "He needs help. Please!" Greg widened his eyes at the sight of the scalpel blade in his hand. "Please, don't. Don't." He shook his head, but the man didn't appear to have a conscience.
He stabbed the blade of the scalpel directly into Nick's thigh, seeing straight through his lie.
The Texan immediately cried out in pain, throwing his head back against Greg's as the man ripped it out of his leg, just as quickly as it went in.
"Oh you twisted son of a bitch!" Greg struggled in his restraints, hating this psycho even more than he did before. "Get away from him! You bastard. I'll kill you for that you god damn psycho!" He forced his words through his clenched teeth to keep them from chattering, getting the psycho's attention. He was now face to face with the welder's mask, while Nick was writhing in pain behind him.
Greg couldn't tell what he was looking at. He didn't even know what he was thinking, but he finally had his full attention, not that he knew what to do now that he had it. Maybe Nick should have given him the second half of his plan, but it was too late for that now.
The man reached out his gloved hand for Greg's jaw with a disturbingly gentle touch, examining him closely. The action only made Greg's teeth chatter even more. Was he planning on cutting his face up next? Maybe he was going to skip ahead to the finish line and chop his head off.
He didn't know how much time had passed when he finally let go. His jaw still felt warm as the man turned away from them, casually making his way back up the stairs, locking the door into place behind him.
"Are you okay?" He immediately turned towards the man behind him. "Nicky, please tell me that was part of your plan."
"Not exactly what I had in mind." His voice was full of pain as he tried to move his leg.
"How bad are you bleeding? Nicky," He tugged at his restraints, trying to see his wound. "C'mon Nick, talk to me. I'll kill that son of a bitch for hurting you."
"It's… not that bad."
"Liar." Greg relaxed back in his seat, resting their heads together. "So this master plan of yours, it hasn't exactly worked out so far, has it? Have you got any other ideas up your sleeve? Not that you have sleeves anymore. We could always try the 'excuse me sir, I have to go to the bathroom' ploy."
"Do you think that'll work?" Nick smirked, wincing as he laid his leg flat against the chair again. "I do have one plan… I'm not sure it'll be much use though. He dropped the scalpel." He spoke softly. "When you shouted at him, he dropped it between our chairs. Can you drag your foot back for it?"
"Why didn't you say something sooner?" The younger man leant over the side of his chair, trying to see where it landed.
"I was kinda… preoccupied, G."
Greg couldn't help but smile, trying to shift himself in his seat. He finally spotted it directly between their chairs coated with Nick's blood. But he couldn't reach. The cable ties around his ankles were pretty tight, keeping his leg close to the wooden leg of the chair and the handcuffs around his wrists didn't give him much room to stretch either.
"How's it goin'?"
"I can't." He dropped his head back against Nick's. "I can't reach. It's hopeless." He sighed in resignation. "Maybe if we can tip the chairs over, I might be able to grab it, but I can't exactly do anything with it once I have it. It's not the right shape to pick the lock of the handcuffs and I can't exactly get it between my toes to cut the cable ties. I've never been that flexible with my toes."
"I'm hearin' a lot of negativity over there, G."
Realising his partner sounded a little drowsy, Greg tilted his head back, trying to get a better look at him. "Nicky… how bad are you bleeding from your leg? Tell me honestly."
"I'll be alright." Nick avoided looking down, already starting to lose feeling in his toes. "I have a new plan." He looked up at the ceiling, watching the dust falling through the floorboards. "When he comes back… he's gonna take me. You have to let him. Until he slips up or gives you an openin'… you can't do anythin' to make him angry."
"What if he takes me?"
"I'm losin' too much blood. He likes to chop his victim's up while they're alive. He'll pick me." The Texan sounded sure of himself.
Greg felt his lower lip starting to tremble and the burn of tears in his eyes. He whipped his head around as he heard the door unlocking, shaking his head as the footsteps made their way down the stairs. "No, no, no…" His limbs started to shake as though a surge of electricity was passing through his body.
"Greg… Greg… baby you gotta calm down." The man behind him whispered softly, tilting his head back to touch Greg's. He watched their masked welder returning with what looked like a meat cleaver in his hand, dropping it onto the work bench just a few feet away from them. "Hey Greg," He rolled his head against his partner's, listening to his wispy breaths. "I love you."
Greg lost it. He let his tears flow free, feeling sick to his stomach as their masked maniac turned to face them. He hated him more than anything in the world. He had never wished anyone dead before. But he'd happily let this man suffer an eternity of pain.
"No, please." He cried out.
He heard the chains of Nick's handcuffs being unlocked, followed by the snap of the cable ties being cut.
The warmth of Nick's body left his back.
"Please." His plea was full of sorrow.
Greg dug his nails into the arms of his chair, watching the Texan falling lifelessly to the plastic tarp on the floor. The blood from his leg had soaked completely into the thigh of his jeans, proving just how much blood he had lost from the fatal stabbing.
The masked welder didn't care though.
He rolled Nick over onto his back, pulling his wrists together with a cable tie from the pocket of his apron. He pulled out the same scissors he had used before to cut away the leg of Nick's jeans, before he pulled off his boot and his sock, returning for the meat cleaver on the work bench.
Greg gulped softly, realising he was going to cut Nick's foot off and he was going to have to watch. "No… no, you twisted psycho. Just leave him alone." He ignored Nick's earlier advice, fighting against his restraints. "Look at me you son of bitch! You'll never get away with this. Look at me!" He demanded. "Just let him go. He never did anything to you. Please… let him go!"
Yet again his protests were ignored.
With the meat cleaver in his hand, the monster made his way back to Nick on the floor, kneeling himself down beside him. He grabbed his ankle in his free hand, trying to judge the best spot to make his first cut.
In one swift motion, Nick swung his concealed weapon towards the man, burying the scalpel deep into his inner thigh, very close to the crown jewels that he was aiming for. He heard an agonising scream erecting from beneath the mask, before the assailant tried to swing at him with the cleaver.
He slashed Nick across the arm, wildly swinging at him again and again.
Nick managed to get his knees between them, forcing the scalpel in deeper as he pushed him away. He scrambled backwards like a worm across the plastic, watching the man desperately trying to pull the blade out of his thigh.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He warned him, seeing the blood trickling down his gloved hand.
The masked man desperately tried to pull the blade out, visibly getting weaker as his blood pooled beneath him. He collapsed onto one knee, breathing heavier as he grasped hold of the scalpel's handle. His muffled scream howled under the mask, but he finally got it to wriggle a little.
"Nick. No!" Greg tried to stop him.
Nick scrambled forwards on his knees, fighting through the pain to get to the cleaver between them. He seized hold of its handle between his bound hands, swinging for the welder's arm.
He returned with a kick to Nick's thigh.
The Texan desperately swung again, but the second kick sent him toppling to the ground.
"Nick!" Greg desperately fought against his restraints.
Ignoring the pain of the scalpel blade deeply imbedded in his thigh, the welder scrambled for Nick, grasping his hands around his throat. He clamped his thumbs down on his windpipe, struggling to keep him pinned as he choked the life out of him.
But he was too weak.
Nick managed to raise his knees between them, using all his strength to push his assailant away. He kicked at the scalpel blade, electing another scream from beneath the mask as it dug deeper into his body.
He was exhausted.
They were both exhausted, but he had to win this if he wanted to free Greg.
Across the room, Greg couldn't bear to watch. He clenched his fingers into the arms of his chair, grimacing every time the suspect laid his hands on Nick. He couldn't bear the thought of him being in pain, but it was all he could hear.
Finally he watched their captor being rolled over onto his back across the plastic, perking up as he saw Nick trying to sit himself up.
"Nicky!" He breathed out a sigh of relief.
The monster was lifeless at last.
The older man breathed in a deep breath, ready to pass out. He pushed through it, searching the suspect's apron pocket for the keys to the handcuffs. He crawled himself over the lifeless man beside him once he found them, grimacing and groaning his way towards the younger man still restrained in the chair.
"C'mon Nick," Greg encouraged him closer. "C'mon," He tried to reach out for him, but he was still too far away. He waited patiently, keeping an eye on their serial killer, until Nick finally reached his knee. "C'mon, unlock it. Quick."
"He's out, Greg."
"Don't you ever watch movies? They're never dead the first time." Greg pointed out to him, tugging his wrist up, so Nick could find the hole for the key. "C'mon… quick." He tried to keep his hand still, even though he was shaking with fear.
"I got it." Nick freed one of his wrists.
The younger man quickly grabbed the keys from his hand, unlocking his other wrist himself. It was at an awkward angle and his hand was desperately shaking now, but he unfastened it quicker than the first one, watching Nick crawling back for the meat cleaver to free his ankles.
"That's it. Bring it here." He anxiously bit his bloody lip, wishing Nick could go just a little faster. He knew he was in pain and losing blood, but their suspect could wake up at any moment. "C'mon Nicky, you can do it. Just a little further."
When he finally got close enough, Greg reached out for the sharp blade, quickly slicing away the ties still binding Nick's wrists. He bent to cut his own ankles free, slipping straight off the chair to tend to Nick.
His throat was a little swollen, each breath whistled through his teeth, causing him to cough every so often. The cut on his arm wasn't bleeding too much, neither was the slash to his ribs, so Greg focused on the stab wound to his thigh. He needed to stop the bleeding somehow, but he didn't exactly have any medical supplies handy.
"Hold still, Nick." Greg grabbed the belt around his partner's waist, using it as a tourniquet. He tightened it into place around his thigh, hearing the man groaning beneath him. "Sorry, sorry. But I can't let you lose anymore blood." He was already looking a little too pale, especially for Nick.
"Ah… Greg… you have to… go… now." Nick's voice was hoarse. He choked on the tightness of his throat, grabbing the younger man's hand beside him. "Go… you have to… go."
"I'm not leaving without you." The younger man refused, slipping his hands beneath Nick's arms. He struggled to pull him to his feet, supporting all his weight, before he attempted to take a step forwards. "I thought you were dead."
"Ah… I had to make it believable."
Greg couldn't help but smile, taking another painful step forwards on his sore leg. He lifted Nick closer to his side, pulling the man's arm around his shoulders, just to keep him upright. It took them a minute or so to reach the stairs, each step up was a grunt and groan of pain, but it was one step closer to freedom.
"Ah, Greg…" The Texan stumbled to his knees through the door at the top. "Leave me. You have to… you have to go." He batted away his hand, refusing any attempt at help. "Go, Greg." He shoved him through the door.
Reluctantly limping on ahead across the creaky wooden floor, Greg stumbled into a counter, knocking various paint cans and tools over. He took a moment to get his bearings, before he burst through the next door. They definitely weren't in the same house. This house looked as though it hadn't been lived in for years, decades even.
The windows were boarded. The furniture was old and falling apart.
When he finally laid his hands on the front door, he struggled to pull it open a moment, before he realised that was locked. He pounded his fist against the wooden frame, knowing it was a bad idea to go back down there, but if welder mask had the keys to the door, then they needed to get them.
"Nick… Nicky," He returned to the man's side, rolling him over in his lap. He cradled his head in his hands, looking into his eyes as they started to flutter open. "C'mon, Nick. Don't go to sleep. You have to stay awake for me."
"I told… I told you to go."
"I can't go. It's locked. But I have a plan." Greg gently combed his fingers through Nick's hair, looking down at his adorable face. "Besides, I can't leave you. Warrick will never forgive me if I leave you behind." He attempted to lift him to his feet again. "C'mon, get up. We can break through the door together. There's no way I'm risking going back down there again."
"He should have bled out by now."
"Doubtful… and you're not supposed to check. Never check that the monster in the movie is really dead. That's usually when he grabs you and finishes you off." Greg practically dragged the man towards the door, supporting all his weight while they took a breather. "Ready? The doors pretty busted anyway. If we aim for the hinge side, we should be able to get it loose."
"We both have busted legs now, G." He pointed out to him, using his good leg to support himself. "But alright… after three." Nick wrapped his arm around the younger man's shoulders, giving him a nod. "One… two… three."
They both kicked the hinge side of the door with as much force as they could muster, wincing back in agony a moment later. They tried again and again, but it still wouldn't budge.
"Ah," Nick supported himself against the younger man's side. "Stay there." He pushed Greg aside, stumbling through to the next room. He shoved a stack of old newspapers off a chair, using it as a crutch as he dragged it along behind him. "Get back."
"What are you…" Greg turned to shield his eyes, listening to the older man angrily swinging the chair at the door a few times. After a few hits he heard the glass breaking, followed by the sound of breaking wood.
"Alright, Greg," He breathed out a deep breath, ushering him over. "Climb through."
He had literally broken the door in half, giving Greg just enough room to squeeze through the top half. He scrapped his leg on a stray piece of wood, but it was so good to see daylight again. He shielded the low afternoon sun from his eyes, seeing nothing but desert surrounding them.
"Nicky, c'mon," Greg reached out for him. "Don't make me beg you. I'm not leaving you behind. Unless you plan on getting us both killed, get your arse through this door." He remained insistent, practically dragging the exhausted man through the gap. He hooked his arm beneath his legs to get him over the final hurdle, tumbling backwards into the sand with him as he lost his balance.
"Ah… nice landin', G." Nick playfully tapped him on the chest. "Are you okay?"
"I think I'll survive." He nodded his head, wishing he could pass out right now.
"Okay… so… we're out of the house." Nick wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling the burning hot sand against his back. "Any idea where we are?"
"No." The younger man rolled himself over in the sand, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight. He searched around for some kind of landmark or building to tell him where they were, just barely making out the shape of a house not too far away. A newer looking house with a truck parked in the driveway. He crawled to his feet to make sure he wasn't seeing things, guessing it was the building their serial killer went to every time he left them. "I think I've got something. Nick c'mon, you have to get up."
"I need… a minute." The older man remained on the floor.
Concerned about his partner's blood loss, Greg dropped to his knees beside him, taking another look at his leg injury. He figured if it hit an artery, he would have lost a lot more blood. It didn't even appear to be bleeding anymore and he could feel a steady pulse.
He placed his hand over his sticky forehead, realising how hot he was.
"Go, Greg." He opened one eye, looking up at the other man. "You can come back for me."
"Never leave a man behind." Greg slid his hands beneath his partner's armpits, attempting to lift him. He slid straight down into the sand, wincing as he dragged his sore leg through the sand. "Fuck…" He let Nick collapse in his lap, waiting for the burning pain to subside, before he tried again.
"Greg… leave me."
"No!" He grunted. Hooking his arms around Nick, he tried crawling backwards with him, dragging their bodies in the direction of the house. He dragged him a few feet before he took a breather, making sure the man in his arms was still breathing himself, before he continued to crawl.
The sun was starting to set by the time he got close enough to the house, but he could see the truck just a few feet away now.
Abandoning his partner for just a moment, Greg stumbled to his feet, ignoring the shivering of his body as he hurried round to the driver's side of the vehicle. He didn't expect it to be unlocked, but he guessed that way out here, they didn't really have a problem with car thieves, so he felt safe enough to leave it unlocked.
But no keys though.
Dropping beneath the steering wheel, Greg lay himself down against the floor mat, tearing open the plastic protecting the wiring. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but he knew what to look for thanks to his mentor, Warrick. He wasn't teaching him how to hot wire a car at the time, just what to look for under the dash, while they processing a vehicle that had been stolen.
He striped two wires of their insulation, rather painfully using his fingernails, before he twisted the two together.
"Shit." He heard the wipers going off on the front window. He made another attempt, half expecting the lights or the car alarm to go off this time, but the engine actually started. He crawled out from under the dash, returning to Nick's side to get him in the car. "C'mon… c'mon, Tex… just a few more feet to the truck. Please, Nick… we're almost there."
"O-kay…" Nick got himself onto his elbows, letting Greg pull him up the rest of the way. "Is that a truck?"
"Yep… c'mon, cowboy."
It was the last stretch of their escape, but it felt like the hardest part. He was exhausted enough carrying his own weight around, but the added weight of Nick over his shoulder made it that much harder to walk. They stumbled to the ground, struggled to their feet, made it a few more steps, before they started the whole process again.
The sun was just beginning to fade away when he dragged him to the passenger side of the truck, using the last of his strength to hoist the man inside.
"Nick?" He climbed up to check for a pulse. He had to double check to make sure he really had one, letting out a small sigh of relief. "Hold tight, Tex. We're getting out of here."
As soon as Greg was in the truck, he felt as though he was on autopilot. He didn't know where they were, but there had to be a road to civilisation somewhere. He drove for hours until he found a familiar road, hoping they made it before he passed out from sheer exhaustion.
"No!"
Greg forced himself into a sitting position, ready to defend himself.
"Hey, relax. It's just me." The familiar presence of Warrick appeared beside him. He had his hands raised either side of him, cautiously approaching the younger man's bed. He didn't want to leave without making sure his friends were okay first, but the large purplish bruise covering half of Greg's face didn't exactly make him feel any easier about the situation. "You alright, Greggo?"
The younger man licked his dry lips, looking around the room they were in. "Uh… where's Nick?"
"A couple of rooms down," The man motioned over his shoulder. "He's alright. He told me you saved his life. He's got a nasty stab wound to his leg, but they managed to patch him up. They're gonna skin graft the patch on his arm. He's pretty dehydrated, but he's alive thanks to you."
Greg shook his head, easing himself back against his bed. "He saved me. He promised he would get me out of there and he did." He breathed out a deep breath of relief, noticing the tube going into his arm. "Am I okay?"
"Yeah, they cleaned your leg up." Warrick pointed towards the bandages wrapped around his leg. "As soon as they're sure it's not infected, they're gonna skin graft you too. You were pretty dehydrated, so they got you on an IV drip too. They were amazed you managed to drive back into the city. You must have passed out behind the wheel, crashed the truck into a street lamp. Lucky for you, a caring citizen decided to jump out of her car to see if you were okay. She called an ambulance for you guys, even followed you to the hospital to make sure you were alright."
"Wow… really," Greg checked himself over, realising he had a steering wheel shaped bruise on his chest. "Ouch."
"Speaking of," Warrick moved closer, sitting himself on the edge of the bed beside him. "The directions you gave, Brass. Do you think you can remember them a little better? I asked Nick already, but he doesn't even remember getting in the car."
"I spoke to Brass?" He couldn't remember a thing since climbing in the car with Nick.
"Yeah, you were a little out of it, but you gave him a full statement while the doctors were checking you over."
"And you didn't find it?" Greg rolled his head back against the pillow, trying to think. He saw flashes of the journey, but it was too hazy to make out. "The sun was still setting when I started driving. We were on the dirt trail… maybe an hour, before I even found a road with tarmac… I… I don't really remember anything. It's all foggy."
"Just try your best. Were you heading east the whole time?" Warrick pulled out his notebook, watching the younger man trying to remember.
"North East… I think." Greg shrugged his shoulders together, licking the corner of his swollen jaw. "We passed a gas station… maybe a mile after the dirt trail." He closed his eyes, trying to remember the route. "It was closed… sealed off… with big wire fences. There was a sign out front… some… souvenirs or something. It might have started with an M… I can't remember."
"Yeah, that's good, Greg." The older man jotted it down. "Anything else you can remember?"
"Yeah, near the house… there were three mail boxes bundled up together. One of them had some numbers on it." Greg held his hand over his eyes a moment, wishing he had paid more attention. "Four, three, zero… there was more, but I can't remember it."
"That's good enough, Greggo." He assured him. "Hey, you get some rest. Try to take it easy okay, you're safe now." Warrick gently tapped his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "There's an officer right outside."
Greg gave him a nod, waiting for the man to leave, so he could check on Nick for himself. He listened to the man's footsteps travelling down the hall, before he pulled the IV out of his arm, easing himself towards the edge of the bed. He clenched his teeth into his bottom lip as his feet hit the floor, glancing towards the door as it swung open.
"Plannin' your great escape, G?" The Texan smirked, pushing the door open a little wider, so he could wheel himself through the gap. He managed to convince a porter to get him a wheelchair, so he could see if his partner in captivity was okay. "You're supposed to be restin'."
"So are you." Greg perched himself on the edge of the bed again, allowing a smile to spread across his lips. "How's the leg?" He could see the bandage around his thigh just beneath his hospital gown, but he didn't know how badly he was hurt.
"Better… thanks to you. The doc said I might have some nerve damage, but they won't know for sure until the swellin' goes down." He wheeled himself closer, stopping just in front of the younger man. "I owe you my life, G."
"You got us out of the basement like you promised. I had to do my part."
"I'm sorry I passed out on you."
Greg shrugged his shoulders together, giving his partner a smile. "You were stabbed, beaten up and almost choked to death by a psychopath. I think you deserved a little rest." He scooted back onto the bed, wincing as his leg hit the blanket. "So… all that stuff you said… I guess you're here to take it back?"
"No." Nick shook his head, presenting the younger man with a smile. "I'm here to tell you thank you and I still love you. I think I love you even more, G. There's not many guys in the world who would drag me through the desert to save me." He placed his hands on the arms of his wheelchair, struggling to push himself to his feet.
"Nick, what are you…"
The Texan leant forwards, putting his finger to Greg's lips. He used the bed to keep himself upright, looking into the younger man's adorable eyes. "Don't talk. I thought I was gonna die back there. The one thing I had to hold onto was you. Now I have this new lease on life and I don't want to waste a moment of it. Startin' with doin' what I should have done a long time ago." He finally leant a little closer, capturing Greg's lips between his own for the first time.
Without using his tongue, he made the younger man melt into his arms.
Greg's chest heaved for air, but he didn't want to pull away. He felt as though he had been waiting for this moment all his life. Instead of taking any longer to think about it, he responded to the older man's kiss, letting his tongue pass his lips, dominating him in a way no man had ever done.
It was finally happening.
This was hands down the best day of Greg's life. Besides the kidnapping, being tied to a chair, the torture, watching the man he loved in danger, the psychopath… oh he didn't care, he was just relieved that it ended with Nick.
The End