A/N: So…another chapter. Not too much to say on this one. Minor spoilers for Play With Fire. Other than that…not too much to say. Enjoy!

Chapter 25-Will I?

"Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow
From this nightmare?"

Will I? from Rent

Greg hated doctor's offices. The falsely cheerful décor, the bad magazines from some twenty years ago, the annoying receptionists…and Dr. Martinez's office was no exception. Considering the fact that she was the leading AIDS specialist in Las Vegas, he had expected her office to be at least slightly more subdued, since her patients had all been given death sentences. Greg sat in the waiting room, ignoring the magazines carefully stacked on the table in front of him. He glanced at his watch. Two hours until shift started. He hoped he wouldn't be late. He still had to prove to Ecklie that he could do his job in spite of this…disease.

With a resigned sigh, he reached for an ancient issue of Sports Illustrated just as the receptionist called his name. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he followed the nurse to the exam room. He declined to sit on the table, taking instead one of the chairs. The nurse left and Greg settled in for a long wait. He was pleasantly surprised when Dr. Martinez joined him only a few minutes later.

"Greg Sanders?" she asked, offering him her hand to shake. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It's fine, thanks," he said, shaking her hand and flashing her a smile. "I wasn't waiting long."

Dr. Martinez settled herself into the chair opposite Greg. "Alright, now I'm sure you have some questions. Why don't we get those out of the way before we begin the exam."

Greg nodded and leaned forward. "Dr. Martinez—"

"Please, call me Susan," she interjected.

"Er…ok…Susan, I guess the main question is what should I expect as…as it progresses?"

She sighed and leaned forward as well. "I'm going to be as honest with you as I possibly can." She paused, then said, "There is no definite way to tell what will happen. Each case is as unique as the individual himself. As time goes on and your T-Cell count gets lower, you will get sick more. It will start with more colds, maybe the flu more often. Then you'll start getting more serious diseases: pneumonia, maybe bronchitis, and such forth. As time further progresses, not only are you likely to be more susceptible to life-threatening diseases like TB and others, but any lesser illness are going to be less likely to cure, simply because your immune system will be shot. When this happens, your immune system will shut down completely, and…" She trailed off.

"And I'll die," finished Greg hollowly.

"Yes," said Dr. Martinez quietly. "You will die."

Greg sat in silence for a minute, then asked, "When…when my immune system shuts down, what will happen? I mean, I've heard stories about brain damage, and essentially becoming retarded, and…"

Dr. Martinez shook her head. "With the modern drugs we have, the chances of you being brain damaged are a lot less than they once were."

Greg nodded in relief.

"Any other questions?" she asked.

"Um…well, what are my treatment options?"

"Ok, I was hoping you would ask that. At this point, we don't know how your body will react to drugs, so I'm going to start you on AZT and hope that your body won't reject it. It will help bring up your immune system, and will hopefully get your T-Cell count higher. When you start getting sicker, however, and the AZT doesn't work, we'll simply have to treat each infection on an individual basis."

Greg nodded, head spinning with all the information. "I wish this had never happened to me," he said quietly.

"I know," said Dr. Martinez, just as quietly. "But 'so do all who live to see such times... but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.'"

Greg looked up, surprised. "The Lord of the Rings?" he asked.

"Yep, Gandalf." Greg nodded once more, slowly, and she nodded as well. "Alright, well, if you don't have any more questions, let's get on with the examination." She flipped the sheet of paper on her clipboard over. "Take off your shirt, please."

Greg froze. "Uh…is that really necessary?"

Dr. Martinez favored him with a frosty look. "Yes, I need to see how thin you've gotten and I'll need to check your breathing, which is easier with your shirt off."

With a sigh, Greg stood and pulled his shirt over his head and stood there, feeling exposed.

Dr. Martinez noted something on the clipboard, then said, "Alright, now turn around." Greg gulped, then turned.

She stood and ran her fingers over his back. "I see the residual scarring from the explosion you were caught in," she commented. "But what are these new marks?"

He flinched involuntarily. "Oh, uh…er…we…we got a new cat," he stammered lamely.

"Hm…these lacerations are inconsistent with accidental scratches of any kind, but especially cat scratches. I'd say judging by the size, depth and spacing, they were made with a razor of some kind." She stepped back and looked at him sadly. "Greg, what are you doing to yourself?"

Greg just looked at her, the helplessness unending in his dark chocolate eyes. "I have no control over anything anymore," he said calmly, with the rationality of a man who had nothing rational left in his life. "This is the one thing that I can control. I can control the pain. I can control it, only me."

"Greg," said Dr. Martinez gently, "I want you to see a psychiatrist."

"Good," snorted Greg flippantly. "I have to see one anyways. My boss' orders."

"Well, I want you to see one because I think you would benefit from anti-depressants."

"You want to put me on drugs?" he asked incredulously. "That's your solution? Pills? How is that any better than what I'm doing?"

Dr. Martinez sat down and sighed. "Greg, that's not what I'm saying. Anti-depressants won't just help with the cutting. It'll help with everything."

"I can't…" he whispered, sinking into a chair. "I'll have to explain it to Sara. How can I explain that to Sara? She'll leave me."

Dr. Martinez took his hand in her own. "Greg, I don't know Sara, I'll admit that, but if she loves you as much as I think she does, then she would never leave you, no matter what."

Greg began to cry, openly. "I don't deserve her," he sobbed. "I'm such a horrible person. I can't even marry the woman I love, or be the man she deserves."

"It's not your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself," said Dr. Martinez gently. He just kept crying. "Greg?" she questioned. "Will you see the psychiatrist?" He nodded, slowly. "Good," she said, releasing his hand. "I'll make an appointment with her for tomorrow. And in the mean time, try not to cut, ok?"

He nodded once more. She turned to leave, then turned back, whispering, "This is one thing you can beat, Greg. Good luck."

A/N: The quote is from The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings. Oh, and a happy early Memorial Day to everyone. God bless our troops.