a/n This little chapter dedicated to my girl CrystallineSolid. Check her out! p.s. still don't own.

Love, Unwilling

Chapter Two

It took a little more than two months for anyone to notice that Greg had become an armed member of the team, not that Greg was counting. The days had melded into an almost comfortable rhythm of work and work outs and projects. Nothing came into his sphere of being and was allowed to impact him directly, but he soon realized that no one cared. They were all involved in their own lives and without the Haley's Comet of Greg drawing on their orbits, they remained in their own gravity, colliding only when necessary to relay information. But one day Nick ended up in Greg's periphery, in the locker room. Although Greg had worked on several cases with Nick, he'd maintained absolute professional courtesy and a physical distance that Nick found painfully uncomfortable. Nick had never realized how often he had invaded the man's personal space until he couldn't anymore. But that day in locker room Greg had come in after him, earbuds in his ears and eyes glued to the screen of his phone. Oblivious, Greg set his phone down and pulled his locker open, moving his jacket and bag into it. As Greg removed his jacket, Nick caught the firearm out of the corner of his eye and stilled, confused.

"Since when do you carry?" he asked, perplexed.

Greg flinched imperceptibly. He narrowed his eyes and worked his jaw. He was really going to have to start chewing gum soon or he wouldn't have any molars left. Looking straight into his locker he replied, "Since about two months ago." His gaze caught the post-it note he'd attached to the shelf. After a moment he crumpled the little yellow square and let it fall to the floor.

"Wow. Well, holler at me if you ever want to go to the range. I could use the practice."

"I don't need to go to the range, thanks just the same." Greg responded quietly.

"Really. You up for a little friendly competition?"

Greg turned to face his colleague, crossing his arms over his chest and leveling his gaze. "Just because I chose not to carry, you shouldn't assume I'm not proficient at firearms." He turned and closed his locker and moved to leave the room. "If you feel you need to compete, you're welcome to compete against my qualifying target. They put it on the wall of the armory."

Nick closed his locker and sat on the bench heavily, frowning at himself. The crumpled yellow paper caught his eye and he scooped it up and smoothed it out against a jean-clad thigh. Three words were written in careful block printing, the writing Greg used when he was focusing and knew his normal messy scrawl wouldn't cut it. Better, faster, stronger, Nick read. His brow furrowed. Without understanding why, he carefully folded the little yellow square so it stuck to itself and then slid the little rectangle into his wallet behind his ID. He absently slapped the refolded wallet against his thigh for a moment before rising resolutely and heading out to the break room to start his shift.