Greg stayed true to his word. He did so by remaining directly in Nick's line of sight, right on front of him, unwavering in the least. Nick kept his head down and his eyes closed, but was aware of Greg's presence all the same. He wanted to tell him everything, but had no idea how he was supposed to begin telling such an awful tale. He wished there was a bottle of whiskey in his reach at the moment that he could gulp down so that he could recount what had happened to him as a child so that Greg might begin to be able to understand. But without the bottle of whiskey around, Nick had to begin simply by doing just that. Beginning.
"My parents were away at a wedding," he said without looking up. He knew he had Greg's undivided attention without having to double check. "Most of my siblings were old enough and went with them. It was my cousin's wedding, I think. One of my sisters didn't go, she stayed at her friend's house. My brother Jason stayed too, at the house with me. He was fourteen, when it happened."
Nick swallowed hard as he finally looked up to meet Greg's piercing stare. "Jason stayed in his room most of the night, playing video games and stuff. He kicked me out after a while because I kept bothering him. I was being a pain in the ass all night, I don't remember why. The babysitter, Linda, she told me that I was misbehaving and had to go to bed early or she would call my parents and make them come home to deal with me. She said that didn't have to happen, that she could deal with me. I didn't know what she meant. I just went in my room. I was going to read or watch TV or something. And then she came in."
The Texan hadn't realized that his hands were shaking until they felt them vibrating against Greg's. The younger man had at some point reached over and took Nick's hands in his own to try and steady them, but was unsuccessful. Greg held them gently, yet firmly, silently encouraging Nick to go on.
"She told me to put my pajamas on, but she didn't leave the room. I grabbed them and tried to go to the bathroom to change, but she closed the door and stood in front of it. She told me to just change right there. I didn't know what was going on, I was so confused and starting to get scared, so I just did what she said. I didn't want her to call my parents." Tears started falling from Nick's tired eyes, but he didn't stop. "I tried to change as fast as I could, but I was so nervous and was trying to rush, and she came over and stopped me from putting my other clothes on. She pushed me down on the bed and held me there. I tried to get her off me, but she was so much bigger and stronger than I was. I didn't know what else to do. After she...finished...before she left she said that if I told my parents, they would be mad at me. That it was my fault because I had done something wrong. I didn't want them to know because they would get angry with me, so I just got dressed and sat there. Waiting for my mom to come home."
"You never told your parents," Greg stated rather than asked.
Nick shook his head. "I didn't want them to get mad at me."
"They wouldn't have gotten mad at you," Greg said, his voice low and calming. "You didn't do anything wrong Nicky."
"Yes I did," Nick argued. "She told me I did, that's why she did that to me. I was bothering Jason all night. They would have blamed it on me, so I never told them. I never told anyone, except for Catherine after that case with the boy who died at his therapists house. You remember. We never talked about it ever again. She never brought it up. I never told anyone else."
Greg swallowed painfully against the lump that had formed in his throat. "What about Jason?" he asked carefully.
"I never told him. He locked his door after he kicked me out, which I'm glad for. That means she left him alone. He could have fought her off though. She wouldn't have been able to do anything to him, so I'm glad it only happened to me. And I couldn't tell him, because he would only blame himself and it wasn't his fault."
"It wasn't your fault either," Greg added before Nick could say anything else.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," Nick replied.
Greg shook his head. "It wouldn't have made a difference. It wouldn't have changed my mind about how I feel about you."
"Yes it would have," Nick countered. "You don't have to admit it. It's okay. I know, and I understand. I don't blame you." Before Greg could retort, Nick went on. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's not going to get us anywhere good."
"Then what do you want to talk about? What can get us somewhere good?"
Nick sighed heavily. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I fucked up. I slept with your cousin, which you basically told me not to do. And I did it anyway. I didn't mean to hurt you, but that doesn't mean much because I did. I don't want to ever cause you pain, I swear it."
"Why did you sleep with her?" Greg asked, wanting an answer for Nick's behavior. "Don't say you don't know or because you were drunk. What's the real reason? You're not an asshole, you're not a player. Despite what some people think of you, none of that is true. You're a southern gentleman through and through. So why did you sleep with her?"
Nick hung his head again. "Will you forgive me if I tell you the truth?"
"Probably not," Greg replied. "I don't think I can ever totally forgive you. It doesn't work like that. But maybe I'll be able to be around you for more than thirty seconds without wanting to bash your skull in."
"Just do it," was Nick's answer as he looked back up at Greg.
"Do what?" Greg asked.
"Bash my skull in," Nick replied in pure sincerity. "Just kill me."
Greg rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah, sure. I'll just go find the biggest rock I can and beat you to death with it. Come on Nick, stop fucking around. If you want to talk, let's talk. If not, I'll leave you alone. I want to help you with, you know, what you told me about, but that's not what you want so we're left with why you slept with Jenna."
"Warrick," Nick said softly.
Greg thought that he had misheard the other man, but the Texan's stone silence and the look in his eyes told him otherwise. "Don't do that," Greg said in a warning tone.
"You want to know why? He's why."
"He has nothing to do with this. Don't bring your dead best friend into this so that I'll feel bad for you and lay down under you again."
"You asked, I answered," Nick said. "He has everything to do with everything."
"He's dead, Nick. He's gone."
"I fucking know that Greg," Nick said as he stood up quickly; Greg did the same as an act of defense. "He's dead, I'm not."
"How does he have anything to do with Jenna?"
"Because after he died, I felt so numb. I felt worse than I did after I was buried alive. I felt like my heart stopped working and nothing I did could make it work any more. So I started going to bars and clubs and meeting these random women and sleeping with them, to give myself some sort of connection. To try and feel alive. And it didn't work. Not even close. I stopped trying to make it, but let Jenna get the best of me."
"Why?" Greg wanted to know. "Why do all of that? Why do you feel like that?"
"Because it's my fault he's dead. And before you tell me I did everything I could and all that other bullshit Grissom and Catherine spewed at me, you're wrong. I didn't do everything I could. I was terrified of what was happening to him and didn't know what to do, so I did jack shit. I gave him some money and yelled at him once for doing pills. That's it. Then he died, as I sat in the diner and thought about the best way to go about fucking the waitress. While I was sitting there trying to get laid, my best friend was murdered a hundred yards away. I should have gone out there with him, at least."
"McKean would have killed you too," Greg replied, somewhat lamely.
"Then I should be dead too. I've had so many second chances when it comes to near death experiences. Why did Warrick only get one? That's not fair."
"It's also not fair that you're blaming what you did on his death."
"It's the truth," Nick said with a shrug. "I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd react this way. I'm not blaming it on him and saying you have to forgive me because Warrick died. I'm just saying that it wasn't off of a whim, or because I wanted to hurt you, or because I'm a man whore. I just...I don't know. I'm sorry, okay? Do you at least believe that? That I'm sorry and I wish I could change what I did?"
Greg shook his head slowly. "I don't know what to believe anymore Nick. I'm stuck here on an island with the guy I've been in love with for god knows how long, and somehow he felt the same way about me."
"Feels," Nick corrected.
Greg went on as if Nick had never spoken. "It's like a fucking movie Nick. Who actually gets stuck on a deserted island like this, other than Tom Hanks? Fucking nobody. But here we are. And it actually wasn't that bad. And now, I don't know. I don't know whether or not I want to die here or go back to Vegas and forget I was ever even here. Forget that I was ever even with you."