A/N: Ah, yet another chapter. Few quick things before we go. Actually, one quick thing, really, before we go...this chapter, towards the end, has a very naturalistic, Man vs. Nature kind of feel. But yeah. Usual disclaimer. Read on!

Chapter 26- Come Clean

"Let the rain fall down
And wake my dreams
Let it wash away
My sanity
Cuz I wanna feel the thunder
I wanna scream
Let the rain fall down
I'm comin' clean"

Come Clean by Hilary Duff

Greg woke up early the next afternoon, to prepare for his first session with Dr. Katherine Parr. He wanted to look good. He wanted to look really good. He had to make sure he didn't look too good, though; he didn't want to come off as OCD. He decided to tone down his clothes; even he knew that Marilyn Manson could come off as kind of creepy, and he didn't really want to make the shrink think he was any crazier than she probably already thought he was.

In lieu of his usual outfit, then, he wore a simple, blue button-up shirt, with a loose pair of jeans and casual yet nice brown shoes. He spiked his hair as usual, then examined his reflection in the mirror. "Not bad," he said out loud, reaching down to pet Shadow's head. "What do you think, Shadow? Do I look like a crazy person?"

Shadow barked enthusiastically. Greg glared at him. "Fine, be that way." He headed to the kitchen to grab a quick cup of coffee before heading out. Glancing out the window, he took in the dark clouds that blotted out the normally over-bright sun. "Perfect," he muttered darkly. "Fits my mood."

With a sigh, he drained the coffee, grabbed his keys and headed out. As he drove, he tried to calm himself down, but his mind wouldn't listen. The only things he could think of were padded rooms and straightjackets.

He pulled into the parking lot and headed into the building. It was a modestly sized building, with a typical waiting room, but luckily, Greg got to go in right away.

Dr. Parr's actual office surprised him. He felt as if he had walked into the living room of his grandfather's cabin in northern California. A large, poofy leather couch dominated the room, followed by a few chintz armchairs, several bookshelves crammed with dusty volumes, pictures and knick-knacks, a couple of throw rugs, and an old desk pushed into the corner.

Greg looked around the room, and, with a shrug, sat on the couch, waiting for the doctor. Less than a minute later, she walked in. Just like her office, Dr. Parr herself wasn't what Greg was expecting. For some reason, he had thought of her as a tall, imposing, possibly fierce woman, but instead, she was a smaller woman, with curly red hair.

"Hi, Greg, I'm Kat," she said with a smile. "I'm glad to see you've made yourself comfortable." She settled in on one of the armchairs, taking a pencil from behind her ear and grabbing a ratty notebook from the small side table. "Ok, Greg, I want you to tell me what happened."

He smiled wryly. "Where do you want me to begin?"

To his surprise, she broke out singing. "Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start." She smiled at him. "Start at the beginning. Always start at the beginning."

"Um, ok." Greg took a deep breath. "Well, when I was four, my mom died…" He found himself spilling the entire story to her, up through his doctor's appointment the previous day.

Dr. Parr listened, chewing gently on the eraser of her pencil and occasionally making a small note in her notebook. When he had finished, she set her pencil down and gazed at him. "If you don't mind," she said quietly, "I'd like to see your back."

Greg shrugged and got up, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. She stood and walked over to him, running her finger over the scars just like Dr. Martinez had.

"Hm," she said aloud. "Most are about an inch long, not too deep, parallel." She traced the ones lower on his back. "Ah, but these…these were made when you were angry. Am I right?"

He swiveled his head around to look at her. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"They're deeper, more jagged. Not cleanly done. You wanted to feel pain, lots of pain." She stepped back and looked at him seriously. "My question is, why?"

"Why not?" asked Greg bitterly. "What do I have left to lose?"

"Well, Sara, for one thing. I know you're scared to lose her, Greg."

He shrugged as he put his shirt back on. "So what if I am?"

Kat shrugged as well before she sat back down. "Well, I can understand that. I mean, who'd want to be with a guy who had AIDS, is dying, and on top of that is having a mental breakdown, right? I mean, it's just a matter of time before she loses interest, right?"

A muscle in Greg's jaw twitched. "It's not like that," he growled.

"Oh, really? Because from where I'm standing, I see no reason for her to stay with you."

"She would never do that. She loves me."

"Who can love someone who doesn't love himself?"

Greg sat down, hard. "Don't say that," he said, barely above a whisper. "I need her. I love her."

"You love her? But how do you repay her? Slicing your back open when things get 'too hard'?"

Greg was crying now. She knelt down next to him. "Why do you do it, Greg? Why, when you stand to lose the only good thing left in your life?"

"Because I can control it!" he yelled, standing up suddenly and pacing about the room. "Because everything going on in my life is out of my control, but this…this is something I can control. Only me. Only I can control the pain, only I control the blood, only me. It is the only thing that I have left that I can truly control."

"You can control your love for Sara, can't you?"

Greg smiled, a heart-wrenching smile. "No," he said quietly. "That love knows no bounds."

Dr. Parr looked at him for a second, then said, "I'll tell you what you can control. You can control your urge to cut. You can stop yourself from doing so." He started to shake his head, but she kept going. "Yes, Greg, you can. And only you can. Not me, not Dr. Martinez, not Sara…only you.

Greg sat down again, this time thoughtfully. "I…I guess I never looked at it like that."

"Well, from now on, try." She looked at her watch. "Greg, I think we made real progress today. I'm not going to lie, though. You still have a long way to go. You're a self-mutilator. You've tried to kill yourself twice, once by drug overdose and once by slitting your wrist. You have anger problems, trust issues, and emotional problems in general."

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" asked Greg quietly, not meeting her eyes.

"No, Greg, I don't. I think you're scared, and I think you have every right to be." She paused, and then she said gently, "But I do think you need help."

"Drugs?" he asked meekly.

"Yes, Greg, I want to put you on anti-depressants. I know you don't like the idea, but in truth, it will help. I have a prescription here for you." She paused once more then looked Greg straight in the eyes. "I also think you need to tell Sara."

Greg started and leaned forward, eyes wide with something akin to fear. "No, I can't. If she knew…it would kill her. It would break her heart. How…how could I do that to her?"

"Greg, how can you not tell her? The guilt is eating you up inside! That's one of the reasons why you cut. You cut, and then you feel guilty, and then you cut more. It's a vicious cycle, Greg, and it has to stop. You have to stop it. You have to let go of the guilt."

He just shook his head, tears beginning to fill his eyes. "Promise me you'll think about it," she urged. "Promise me!"

"I'll…I'll think about it. I promise."

Kat sighed. "Alright. And promise me you'll get that prescription filled."

"I will."

"I'm also going to make a weekly appointment for you. Is the same time ok?" He nodded wordlessly. "Good. Here's my card, with my home phone number on it. Call anytime, any day, if you need me, ok?" He just nodded once more. "Greg, you can do this," she said. "I promise."

Greg drove numbly back to his apartment, thinking over all the things Dr. Parr had said to him. "Talk to Sara," he said out loud, dubiously. "Yeah, right. Cuz that conversation would go real well. 'Hey, Sara, babe, I love you…but I take a razor blade and slash my back when I feel like everything's getting out of control. But it has nothing to do with you, sweetheart, I promise.'" He laughed wryly. "Oh, yeah, that would be a bitch to explain."

He sighed and fell silent again. Reaching for the radio, he turned it on just in time for the weather report. "…commuters should be aware that a big storm is rolling into the Las Vegas area. Rain is expected to begin at anytime. Roads will be slick, folks, and some areas could be flooded, so drive carefully!"

"Damn!" swore Greg, turning the radio off. Sighing, he fumbled for his cell phone, pushing the first speed dial number. "Hey, Griss, it's Greg. Yeah, look, I'm going to be late…yeah, well, I was on my way over, but I heard about the rain that's coming, and I have windows open at home…Alright, I'll be there ASAP…Yes, Griss, I'm taking it easy…" He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in frustration. "Yeah, I had my first appointment today…uh-huh…uh-huh…yeah, see you soon." He closed his cell and tossed it on to the seat beside him.

Just as he reached his apartment complex, the heavens opened and it began to pour. Huge drops of rain splashed on the pavement like tears from above.

Greg darted from his car to the door, fumbled with his keys for a minute before finally making it inside. Still cursing softly under his breath, he ran to his window and closed it with a snap. Pausing only to scratch Shadow's ears and grab a jacket, he ran straight to his car, diving in before he was completely soaked by the rain.

He jammed the key into the ignition, turning it quickly. The car gave a guttural grinding noise, then fell silent. "Shit," muttered Greg under his breath, turning the key again. This time, the car whined loudly before dying. "Goddamnit, this is not the day to do this!" he yelled in frustration.

He grabbed his cell and called Grissom again. "Hey, Griss, it's me again…yeah, look, my car died…no joke, man, it won't start…Yeah, sure…look, I'll pull a double tomorrow, ok?" He paused. "Grissom, I'm fine to pull a double. I'm not going to keel over and die because I work an extra shift. I promise." He listened again. "Yes, Mother, I'll get some rest…yeah, ok…yeah, see you tomorrow."

He closed the phone and slid it in his pocket before half-heartedly trying to start the car again. It gave one low growl before going silent.

Greg groaned aloud, then got out of the car and just stood outside, feeling the rain drops dripping down his face. He raised his head to the sky, held out his arms and yelled, "Is this some kind of punishment, God? Or some kind of threat to get me to tell Sara? Cuz if it is, well, fuck you! Fuck you and fuck this, because I'm not telling her!"

Lightning flashed, dangerously close, and he involuntarily flinched. He remembered all too well the feel of burning flesh. He quickly headed back into his apartment, shutting the door behind him. He just stood there for a minute, the rain dripping off of him. Shivering, he peeled his soaking shirt off and threw it aside, wincing slightly as he felt the material brush a few still-open cuts.

With a deep sigh, he walked to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and set one of his steak knives down next to it on the table. He sat there, just staring at the glass of Jack Daniel's and the knife as if trying to decide which was the lesser of two evils.

A rumble of thunder rolled through his thoughts. It sounded like it was right above him. "What do you want, God?" asked Greg quietly, voice barely audible over the crash of the thunder. "What do you want from me? Do you want me to tell Sara? Is that it?" A low crack of thunder seemed to agree with him. "Cuz I don't know if I can do that. I'm…I'm not strong enough. God, I'm weak. I'm so weak, and I seem to discover new depths of my weakness everyday. I just…I can't do that."

Thunder crashed again, even louder. "I'm scared, God, I'm so scared. I'm scared to lose Sara, I'm scared she'll leave me, I'm scared of this disease…I'm scared to die." The incessant tattoo of the rain against the windowpane beat like a snare drum into Greg's mind. He was sobbing now, but at the same time trying to stop himself from doing so. "I just can't do it. I can't."

The wind howled and the thunder smashed and the rain crashed in sheets against the windows. The apartment complex seemed to shake with Nature's wrath. For probably only the fourth or fifth time in his life, Greg was scared, truly scared.

"Why me, God? Why me?" No answer seemed to come, save what crashing thunder and torrents of rain could tell.

"Fine, God, fine!" he screamed as the thunder boomed and roared. His face was briefly illuminated by an eerie green glow as another bolt of lightning sizzled through the sky. The tears coursing down his face matched the rain streaming down the windows.

"Fine. I'll tell her." The rain stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving behind a world washed clean. "It will break her heart, but I will tell her."

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. "Greg, it's me!" called Sara's voice from outside. "Let me in! Are you alright?"

Greg wiped his eyes and looked up at the sky. "Wish me luck, God. I need all the help I can get." Raising his voice slightly, he called, "I'm coming, sorry!" Taking a deep breath, he crossed to the door and opened it.

A/N: Song she sings is Do Re Mi from The Sound of Music.