A fairytale is a funny thing. It took a long time for Greg to realize as a little boy that not all fairytales have happy endings. And it took even longer for him to realize in life that this was one of those fairytales. But such was life, as he continued on as if nothing was wrong, doing his best to fool those around him in to thinking he was happy. He wasn't. He was falling apart from the inside out, desperate for someone to reach out to. He couldn't though because there was still that unspoken rule. They were still a secret. They would always be a secret; no matter what Nick told him. No matter what he promised when they held each other in the dark of Greg's bedroom.
They were just like the song now, Greg realized. A year ago he had sat in this same spot and listened to that sad song and reflected that it would only ever be partly true. The irony was not lost on the man that now it was entirely true. Nick had said that he would try, and he did. But here they were another year down the road and nothing had changed outside his small apartment. Although they talked now, and they cuddled and whispered endearments, they were still the same. Nick was still married, still responded to his wife's phone calls. No one knew about them. And Nick still hadn't stopped to consider what it was doing to Greg.
So here he was again, and the same song was playing in his stereo on repeat. Only this time it was quieter, not playing at such a raging volume. The floor around him was clear and the coffee table held no beer bottles. Greg had given up trying to escape that way a long time ago, mostly because Nick had asked him to and Greg would do anything for Nick. Even if the man had failed to realize it. The lyrics floated around the room and for a while Greg was able to ignore them and their truths, focusing instead on how absolutely exhausted he was of life. He had slowed down noticeably to the point where instead of just gossiping about it, people had begun asking him about it.
But what could he tell them? That Nick promised time and again that someday they could really be together, and yet always went home to his perfect little charade life? That Greg cried now, almost every time? Their friends at work had no idea that his problems had anything to do with Nick. In the field they were always professional, even a little cold. How could anyone know they were even friends, let alone fuck buddies? That was the term Greg had begun using behind Nick's back. They were fuck buddies, no matter what the older man tried to say. They weren't lovers, because to be lovers there has to be love going both ways. And Greg was convinced that the love still only came from one side.
Eventually the song battered its way in to his head, by determined repetitiousness if nothing else. Last time Greg had tried not to cry, just tried to drink it all away. This time he was far beyond the point of caring. He had given himself away time after time and received nothing in return. He didn't have far enough left to fall to even care anymore about the pride of not crying. He sniffled as he freely let the first tear meander its way down to his chin and splash on his hands. Like always, it was like breaking down the barriers and letting out a river.
The first tear was quickly followed by another, and another, until his eyes were streaming constantly. The sound of something rattling around in his lock didn't perturb him. Nick had his own key now, and sometimes he would surprise Greg after work by beating him there. It didn't matter if the Texan saw him crying and listening to this song again. Nothing mattered anymore, when he was in this mood. So he didn't even bother calling out a greeting when the door opened and a figure stepped in to the darkness. They seemed on high alert, and Greg was startled when a second figure stepped in after him. The door closed and the two figures tiptoed in quietly.
The light switch was flicked suddenly and Greg's eyes widened when he took in who was really coming in to his home. Two strange men, both dressed as nondescriptly as possible. One was a brunette, and the other was a redhead. The redhead had a lock pick dangling from his thick fingers, and the other man had an empty gym bag swinging off his shoulder. They stared right back at Greg in surprise.
"Shit! Thought this place was empty!" The redhead had a harsh voice, and Greg barely reacted when suddenly the lock pick was dropped, replaced by a slim black gun. The gun pointed unwaveringly at his own face. Greg blinked and tilted his head, only curious. Fear didn't even try and register in his mind. Nothing mattered when he was in this mood. The two men stared at him in trepidation until he chuckled and leaned back.
"Going to shoot me huh?" he asked calmly "Don't I get a last phone call or something?" The two men stared at him like he was loony, but he could see the manic glint in their eyes. These guys had killed before, and they wouldn't hesitate to do so again. He couldn't be let live now that he had seen them. Here were two people who would do anything not to pay for their crimes. If it had been another day, Greg might not have felt this way. And if it had been perhaps a year ago, Greg might have not acted this way. But he had hit his breaking point a long time ago, and he recognized this as the opportunity he had been waiting for. The one with the gun let out a cruel laugh.
"Sure thing blondie. You want a last phone call you go right ahead. You're dying anyway and we'll be long gone before anyone gets here. Mark, go see what you can find around the place." The brunette nodded curtly and took off to rummage through Greg's things. He couldn't have cared less. He was about to die, what need did he have of valuables? It wasn't like he could take them with him in to the afterlife. Not that Greg believed in the afterlife, that was more Nick's scene. At the thought of Nick, Greg was struck by a sudden idea. He ran it by his captor, who only laughed at him and flippantly said he didn't care either way.
So Greg made two phone calls. The first one was rather short, and had the redhead with the gun laughing uncontrollably, although not hard enough to made the weapon waver from Greg's face. The second phone call rang three times before a mildly surprised voice picked up their end.
"Turn on your radio Nick," Greg urged his buddy. Nick asked him why but he only smiled sadly at the black barrel staring at him. "I'll miss you," he replied without answering any questions. Then he hung up and leaned across to his stereo system. The CD stopped playing when he switched the setting to radio and fiddled with the tuning dial. It landed on a country station and he sat back in to the cushions, not caring in the slightest that his eyes were welling up with tears again. The slow strains of a familiar song started coming out and, even though his voice cracked, Greg sang along.
I've been sitting here
Staring at the clock on the wall
And I've been laying here praying
Praying she won't call
It's just another call from home
And you'll get it and be gone
And I'll be crying
In his house not too far away, Nick stared at the phone in his hand and wondered what the hell had just happened. Either way, his radio was already turned on to his favorite station. His head suddenly whipped around to stare at it and the phone dropped to the floor when the next song started to play. It was the same song. He couldn't believe it. That day was burned in to his brain in minute detail, and he often woke from bad dreams concerning it.
His wife, sitting across the room, asked him what was wrong, but he ignored her. His attention was suddenly riveted to the music and the lyrics that it was playing. Now that he and Greg had started actually having a relationship instead of just having sex, he knew so much more about the younger man; including the fact that he wished Nick didn't have to leave every time. Truth be told, Nick never wanted to leave. He was just so damn terrified of staying.
Sometimes as he left, he thought he could hear Greg start to cry, but he always shook his head and dismissed it. He was forced to admit that it was just his classic form of denial. He didn't want to think that he was hurting Greg, so he just refused to believe it. But of course he was hurting him; Greg had told Nick on that day a year ago that he loved him, and that he had always wished that Nick could love him too. And even though they had whispered the words to each other in a dark bedroom many times, Nick was suddenly faced with the fact that it was hard to believe a whisper.
And I'll be begging you, baby
Beg you not to leave
But I'll be left here waiting
With my heart on my sleeve
Oh, for the next time we'll be here
Seems like a million years
And I think I'm dying
Greg did protest sometimes when Nick's phone rang with his home number on the caller ID. So many times he had seemed on the verge of grabbing the offending object that kept separating them and smashing it, but he never did. He would never do anything to hurt Nick. He wore his emotions, not on his sleeve, but so obvious in his eyes. It was always there, that he wished he could find the strength to beg Nick not to go, to find the right words to convince him to stay. Nick completely agreed that every time they were together, it always felt like forever until the next time would come around that they were able to get another chance to meet.
What do I have to do to make you see
She can't love you like me?
His wife was coming closer, looking at him funny and saying something that he couldn't hear. His ears were full of the words of the lead singer of Sugarland, whose voice had an awful fake southern twang. The woman here though, his wife, she was perfect in the eyes of any normal guy. She had thick red hair falling down over her shoulder and exotic green eyes. Her mouth was small and naturally cherry red. She was trim and petite. And she was all wrong.
When she held him gently with her soft arms, it was lacking. When her small mouth kissed him and immediately gave in to his control is wasn't as nice. The way she never said a word when watching a movie and had perfect table manners was just so boring and weird that Nick found himself wishing to be somewhere else, somewhere very specific. Because Greg really did love him better than her. He loved him in a way that was rough and ready and complete. He gave himself to Nick in a way that said 'here I am, I am all yours, to do with as you will'. Not even his wife had done that. She had threatened to not go through with the wedding if he didn't include one of her brothers as a groomsman. Greg had loved him already, but had stood there and stayed silent because he thought it would make Nick happy.
Why don't you stay
I'm down on my knees
I'm so tired of being lonely
Don't I give you what you need
When she calls you to go
There is one thing you should know
We don't have to live this way
Baby, why don't you stay
She was right there in front of him now and he could barely see her. He could see someone else in her place with short blonde hair and wild clothes and big brown eyes. Why didn't he stay? After all this time, why didn't he just go for what he wanted? He knew without a doubt that Greg would welcome him with open arms, should he ever decide to finally take a chance. And it struck him how absolutely horrid this whole thing must be for the younger man, who had to sit back and watch Nick leave time and again.
He really didn't have to do any of this, and yet he chose to because he loved Nick that much. Nick raised his hands to cover his face and when he suddenly heard hurried echoes he realized that he was breathing way too fast. He could feel the heartbeat in his chest striking a rapid staccato against his ribs.
You keep telling me, baby
There will come a time
When you will leave her arms
And forever be in mine
But I don't think that's the truth
And I don't like being used and I'm tired of waiting
It's too much pain to have to bear
To love a man you have to share
Nick was forced to admit that he wouldn't be able to do it. He wouldn't be able to be with someone knowing that he didn't have all of them. So how was Greg able to survive, knowing that the one he loved bedded down every night with someone else, knowing that he didn't have all of Nick? He sighed as he thought of all the times they had laid awake and talked about him leaving his wife. They had even planned different things like how he would say he was leaving her, where Nick's things would go in Greg's apartment, what things he would ask for in the divorce. The younger man was always very enthusiastic about these talks, and yet there was always a hopeless undertone to his voice. As if he didn't really believe the truth of it.
Standing here and listening to this old song all over again was bringing everything in to focus for Nick, just like it had last time. The Texan wasn't sure why he had remained so dense, or why it kept taking Greg reaching out to him like this, but now he could see everything from the other man's point of view. Again. He was seeing everything his lover said or did with a brand new clarity, and suddenly feeling all the hidden depths of those things.
Why don't you stay
I'm down on my knees
I'm so tired of being lonely
Don't I give you what you need
When she calls you to go
There is one thing you should know
We don't have to live this way
Baby, why don't you stay
I can't take it any longer
But my will is getting stronger
And I think I know just what I have to do
I can't waste another minute
After all that I've put in it
I've given you my best
Why does she get the best of you
So next time you find
You want to leave her bed for mine
Nick's hands dropped from his face and his wife seemed a little surprised by the determined look that he was wearing now. There it was, the verse that he had dreaded and yet anxiously awaited. It was those words that made everything fall in to place in his head. It had been so long, so long that they had played this horrible game, that it was bound to come to a head sooner rather than later. It was already later. And now he knew that he had to do something and fast if he wanted to keep Greg in his life. He wasn't so sure that Greg wasn't as weak as he thought himself to be. The blonde was getting close to his breaking point, and Nick was terrified of what would happen when he reached it.
His wife jumped in fright at his sudden movement when he stepped decisively around her towards the door. Greg sending this song to him was like a message that Nick interpreted as his last chance to set everything straight. It was time for his final choice, and he knew where he needed to be to make it. He ignored his spouse's worried words as he pulled on his shoes and haphazardly tied the laces. His coat was yanked off its hanger and he remained deaf to her voice still. He was just about to deliver some excuse about work like he always did when he suddenly stopped himself.
"I'm going to see Greg," he told her in a strong voice. It meant nothing to her, though it caught her unaware, and yet it meant everything to him. And hopefully it would mean something to his blonde lover when he told him about it. Nick raced out of the house and hopped in his truck without waiting for a reply, the stereo system coming to life, tuned to the same station. Nick backed out of the driveway at lightening speeds and flew down the street with the ending of the song echoing in his ears.
Why don't you stay
I'm up off my knees
I'm so tired of being lonely
You can't give me what I need
When she begs you not to go
There is one thing you should know
I don't have to live this way
Baby, why don't you stay, yeah
It was probably a warning, and Nick had never been one to ignore warning signs. If nothing else he was a safe man; which was probably why he had let this whole situation go on for so long. He had stayed with his wife because she was safe and expected, not to mention accepted. His parents had beamed so proudly on the day of the wedding, and Nick had shuddered many times to imagine their faces should he tell them he was leaving her for a man. It was one of the things that had held him back.
There weren't very many roads or turns between his place and Greg's so it was a matter of minutes before Nick was pulling up outside the familiar apartment complex. The residences here were pretty nice, fitting fewer apartments in to each building than was the norm because they were all pretty large. Greg's was on the third floor, and Nick took the stairs to get up there, refusing like he always did to even look at the elevator. For some reason today it was like the stairs had tripled in number, and it took him three day past forever to get to the top. Once he was up there, even though he knew almost all of this floor belonged to Greg's apartment, the door to actually get in was at the other end of the hallway.
Nick had his hand buried deep within his pocket to fish out his keys as he approached the entrance when suddenly he stopped. His keys were unneeded because the door was wide open and Greg's door was never left open. The inside was dark, although soft music was playing somewhere. Greg's music was not soft or quiet. Nick's CSI senses kicked in to high gear right away, and on instinct he pulled his gun from the holster he still wore on his hip from work. His back pocket yielded the pair of rubber gloves he tried to always keep on him as well, just in case situations like this came up. He pulled the gloves on, turned off the safety on his gun and never took his eyes off the door.
It was open wide enough for him to slip in without making a noise and he did so as quickly as possible. The front hallway and the kitchen were dark as the nighttime outside, but he could see light coming from the living room and he moved in that direction, checking everywhere at once and holding his gun in both hands. All his stealth training came out on instinct, making his footsteps silent and his breathing shallow. Something was very wrong in here, and he was petrified to find out what. As he drew closer to the light he became aware of voices. They were garbled, but one of them was quite familiar. He slipped closer and turned the doorknob without a sound.
"I told you to get down on your knees," a harsh voice greeted his ears as the door cracked open. Nick's eyes widened as he peeked in to gain his bearings. Greg was standing by the radio, his head hung low, but his back straight and defiant. He was staring balefully from underneath the hair hanging in his face, right down the barrel of a gun. He seemed completely unafraid however; more like amused.
"No," he croaked, his voice hoarse. The man holding the gun was tall with red hair and commonplace clothing. Nothing really extraordinary was on him that could identify him later. Nick filed this information away in his brain, running completely on auto pilot, and paused to take further stock of the situation. Suddenly a second man strolled in from the direction of the bedroom, and Nick was glad he had waited. The second man could easily have surprised him had he burst in unaware and quite easily taken him out. He was pretty built, and he carried a heavy looking gym bag.
"Everything worth it is in here," the brunette man said. "Shoot him and let's take off." Nick started at how blunt the statement was, but neither the redhead nor Greg seemed fazed by it. Greg, to Nick's complete astonishment, smirked a bit. The redhead clenched his hand around the gun a couple times as if in contemplation of something.
"Why are you so unafraid?" he asked out of nowhere. Nick was wondering the same thing. He was stopped from bursting in to the rescue by that question. Greg's answer bought him more time to make a plan, and he was making minute revisions to the one he already had when suddenly he froze at Greg's reply.
"I am ready to die," was his simply answer. The redheaded man laughed outrageously and Nick stared through the crack with his jaw almost hitting the floor. The words had been delivered with such honesty and calm that he could only realize that they were completely true.
"Very well then, die," the gun raised and before Nick had a chance to activate his plan, a horrible cracking explosion rent the air in the apartment.
"GREG NO!" Nick burst in to motion, shoulder the door open and throwing himself through it. His own gun went off and it struck the redhead in the heart. The brunette scrambled for something in his back pocket, which could only be his own weapon, but Nick was faster. His gun went off again, catching the man right in the middle of the forehead. They were both on the ground in seconds, and Nick looked over to Greg. The blonde was still standing and for a moment Nick thought that the redhead's shot had missed him.
And then he looked down to see a sea of red blossoming across his chest. Unable to compute that, he looked back up. Greg had the most serene look on his face, as if all his troubles had just been solved. He slowly raised his head to look Nick in the eye. As soon as their gazes met, the man who had shot him lifted his head from the floor, still marginally alive. He shakily raised his gun and with his last breath pulled the trigger, then shuddered and died.
Nick could only watch as time slowed down. The second bullet slammed in to Greg's chest on the opposite side of the first one. His shoulder flew back and his whole body rippled just like in the movies. He wavered once more, and then he met Nick's eyes again. And he smiled. It was warm and beautiful and completely peaceful for the first time in so long. As he started to fall, he reached out his hand longingly toward Nick, but his eyes were already closing and within seconds he was on his back on the floor, smiling up at the ceiling as if he were only sleeping.
It took seconds longer for Nick to react. It had all happened so fast, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not. This all had to be a nightmare. But even in his nightmares he wouldn't be able to stand it if Greg died. That thought forced him in to action, and he tore the radio from his belt.
"Control, control, who ever is listening I need all units at Reiter Avenue, complex six, apartment nine. Officer down, I repeat officer down." He paused a moment and suddenly a sobbed wracked his body. "Grissom please, Greg's been shot again." He couldn't even be sure that his boss was anywhere near a scanner, but his brain was rapidly losing all rational thoughts. He dropped the radio beside him as he dropped himself to his knees and grasped desperately for Greg. His chest was completely covered in blood, and Nick was absently glad that he had worn gloves. He wasn't contaminating the scene. Behind him the radio gave one last squawk.
"Hold on Nicky, we're coming," Grissom's voice barely registered because Nick was sobbing and holding Greg closer. His eyes were still closed and he was smiling without a care in the world. His voice saying that he was ready to die replayed over and over again in Nick's head as he pleaded with his lover to wake up, please wake up. He felt for a pulse and found a weak one fluttering in the neck. He stripped off his shirt and used it to put pressure on the wounds, even as he hugged Greg close to himself.
It didn't take more than a couple minutes for PD to get there and the medics were only seconds behind. Right behind them came Grissom with Warrick in tow. Nick could only look up at them, his face drowning in hopelessness, and cry harder. For a few seconds he could see them pause at the look on Greg's face, then they were shoved out of the way as the paramedics came over to take the blonde to an ambulance. Nick didn't want to let go but they forced him to, and Grissom laid a restraining hand on his arm. He turned to look at his supervisor, then down at himself. His own chest was smeared with Greg's blood, and looking at it his stomach heaved. He had time to stumble two steps out of the way before he was throwing up violently on the floor.
Warrick patted his back but Nick couldn't even feel it. All he could hear in his head was a ghastly mixture of the words of that song and the sound of a gunshot and Greg's voice saying he was ready to die. Nick was not ready for Greg to die.