A/N: Oh my goodness, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that it took this long for me to update this, I was probably killing you all with that suspense. Yikes, I always manage to do that. Blah, so much stuff I've had to do lately, and I had the chapter half written, but I couldn't find the time to actually sit down and write, and when I would write, I would only get to add like one sentence to it, anywho. I have it written now, and I think it might be a little short, but I wanted to stop it there, because it just seemed like a good place to stop it there. You can thank the evil people at Much Music for this chapter being posted. Because if I weren't going insane because of them, I wouldn't have made myself write this to take my mind off of it. Haha, yeah, they put full length songs from Hedley's upcoming CD on their site, and I don't want to ruin the fun of buying the CD and hearing them for the first time... so it's driving me a little crazy.
Anywho, this is one long ramble, and I'm super sorry for that too! So I'll just stop typing and let you read. Let me know whatcha think!

Chapter 16 - You'll Understand When You're Better

"Dammit!" Catherine scolded herself, "I didn't give him the gloves!"

She wasn't sure if Greg had a set of his own rubber gloves, and she didn't want him to burn himself on any of the chemicals, so she'd brought a pair for him. Quickly, she got out of her car and went back up to give the gloves to Greg. When she knocked on the door, she didn't get a response and she began to get worried.

Maybe he already spilled some of the liquid on himself... Catherine thought, obviously not having the slightest clue about what was going on inside.

She noticed that the door was unlocked, and the mother inside of her took over, filled with worry as she opened the door.

"Greg, your door was open... I was just making sure you had rubber gloves," Catherine began when she saw the bottle she'd given him on the counter and Greg with the glass full of his lethal concoction up against his mouth.

She tried to convince herself that he was just grabbing a drink before going to unclog the drain, but then Greg spoke.

"I said I didn't want to talk anymore... but no one listened."

"Greg. We did listen. But we knew you had to talk in order to get better. We want you to get better Greg. We want our Greggo back," Catherine told him in a calm voice, knowing that if she upset him, he would surely drink down the poisonous liquid.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Greg still held the glass in his hand, and Catherine feared that any second he would drink it.

"Greg you don't have to do this. You'll get better. I promise," Catherine stated, "I promise you won't have to feel like this anymore. Just trust me. None of us want this to happen to you. We all want you to get better. We want to help you get better. But you have to want to get better."

Greg knew that Catherine wouldn't give up. He knew that she would never let him kill himself. He knew she'd never allow him to drink his lethal concoction.

A part of him wanted to break down, to just start crying, to let out every single emotion he'd ever had bottled up. He knew Catherine would understand. But another part of him wanted to keep his guard up, the part of him knew that Catherine would make him go back to the psychiatrist.

"I'm sorry," he said, as he began to pour the liquid down the drain.

Catherine immediately walked over to him and gave him a reassuring hug.

"You don't have to be sorry. This isn't your fault," she told him, "It's not your fault."

Greg didn't want to give in, but the tiny part of him that was tired with fighting took over momentarily.

"I don't want to talk... not yet," he replied.

Catherine understood that Greg wasn't ready to start talking about what happened to him in depth like the psychiatrist had wanted, and she also knew that she wasn't going to leave him by himself. He would have to be monitored so this wouldn't happen again.

"Okay, but you're staying at my place until you're ready, all right?"

It was more of a statement than a question.

Greg protested, claiming that he was more than capable of staying on his own, but Catherine remained persistent. She knew that if this could happen once, it could happen again, and as long as he wasn't seeing a professional, she wanted him to be monitored.

"No. I'm staying here. You've got a daughter to take care of," Greg stated.

"Then we'll call up someone else from the lab and you can stay with them. It's either that or you stay in the psychiatric hospital where they are always watching you. I know you don't want me to call them. Come on Greg, get your things and we'll call Warrick. I'm sure you can stay with him," Catherine replied.

"I said no. Look, I'm fine. I can stay here. I don't want to stay with anyone else. Can't you see that I'm okay?" Greg questioned.

"Greg. I'm sorry, but no... I don't think you are. This is for your own good. None of us want anything happening to you, okay? You need to stay with someone," Catherine answered.

"I told you, no. I'm not going anywhere."

"And I told you, you need to stay with someone. Greg, look I know you can't see this, but I'm really worried about you. Please, if you don't want to come stay with me, I'm sure we can find someone from the lab, and they'll come stay here," Catherine stated.

"No!" Greg boomed, "There isn't anything wrong with me. Just back off and get out of my house!"

"I'm sorry Greg," she said quietly as she took out her cell phone and dialed, "I'm sorry that I have to do this."

Greg knew what she was doing, she was calling the hospital. She was going to get him admitted there, where people were always watching him and he was labeled crazy. He didn't want her to call, he didn't want her to send him there, he didn't want to be forced to talk.

"Catherine. Don't, don't you dare... don't you dare," Greg told her, not in a threatening tone, but in a tone that displayed the weakness he felt inside.

"I'm sorry Greg, this is for your own good. You'll understand when you're better."

Greg had gotten very angry after Catherine had made the phone call, and refused to go anywhere, even though he knew people from the hospital were coming to pick him up.

"How could you do this to me?" Greg screamed.

Catherine tried to explain to him that she wasn't doing it to him, but rather, she was doing this for him. Sadly, Greg wasn't listening.

When the people came to pick Greg up, Catherine could feel the tears forming in her eyes. She hated seeing Greg like this. She watched as Greg glared out the window at her, from within the car that was driving off.

His lips formed the words, "I hate you."