At work, Greg looked down at the end of the bar at his former client getting another drink from his fellow bartender. Greg had asked Terry to take care of him and told him why. He told him that Frankie was one of his old clients. Yes, Greg had been open with a couple of his co-workers on his past life. Some already knew because they used to hang around the same scene.

Frankie kept eyeing Greg as he grabbed his 4th Long Island Iced Tea from Terry and took it back to his table with another man. Greg felt dirty just the way he looked at him. He didn't like when he was in the bar and wished he had never run into him again.

It was nearing closing time and Greg noticed that Frankie had left some time earlier. He was glad he never approached him. He was worried that the man would try to solicit his former services again. It was just after 5 am by the time Greg left the bar. He walked out the back alley to go to the parking lot across the way. He suddenly heard someone call his name. He turned around and saw it was Frankie. He had a bottle of whisky in his hand. He looked disheveled and hungry but not for food. He was walking closer to him. Greg tensed up seeing the man near him.

"What do you want, Frankie? I already told you I am not interested anymore in that line of work," Greg quickly said, glaring into his hazel eyes. Frankie just smirked at him. "You know what they say, once a druggie always a druggie. Goes the same for Whores too. You would be both."

Greg was trying to keep calm but finding it difficult with Frankie nearly on top of him, having backed him against the alley wall. "Look, I just want to go home and get some sleep. I have a BOYFRIEND waiting for me," he emphasized.

"Does he enjoy plunging into that candy ass of yours as much as I did? I bet not. I would pay you $100 right now to plunge into that ass of yours," Frankie slurred.

Greg took a deep breath trying to calm his jarred nerves at hearing his proposition. "I'm not for sale anymore. Now if you don't mind, I am going home." He turned around to leave and started walking off when he felt something hard hit his head, causing him to fall to the ground.

He laid on his side facing the alley wall. His head spun and throbbed. He felt something wet dripping from his head. It dripped into his mouth. It was a mixture of whisky and his blood. Suddenly he felt a hard kick at his back and he screamed out in pain as his old injury was aggravated.

"Little fucker think you can turn me down like that. You're a fucking whore. I won't take any shit from any fucking whore like you," he heard Frankie yell as another kick at his backside made him scream out in pain.

His world was spinning more as he heard shouting and yelling around him. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain as all hell seemed to break out in back of him. But all he could feel was the pain in his head with his back feeling like it was on fire. He felt momentarily paralyzed in trying to move. Fear registered in the back of his head as he lay completely still and yet in utter pain.

It seemed like a couple minutes before he heard someone saying his name. He felt someone touch his arm. He opened his eyes and saw a scared looking Terry kneeling down by his head. "Hey Greg, can you hear me? I'm going to call 911."

"No, no please don't. No cops I don't want any cops involved." Greg said as he reached up and felt a knot growing on his head. Terry shook his head, looking at him like he was crazy.

"This guy has been stalking you at the bar and now beat you up and you don't want the cops called on him? Are you crazy?" His coworker asked him.

"Please Terry, no cops. Remember I live with one that is enough." He tried to move and groaned in pain. "Well damn Greg, if anything I am taking you to the hospital." Terry looked off to the side and talked to someone else.

"Get that piece of trash out of here. And make sure he is never let near this place or Greg again," Terry commanded someone.

"Who's that?" Greg asked, not being able to see who he was talking to. Terry turned his attention back to Greg. "It's Jones, the custodial guy. He's the one who heard the commotion out here and came and got me. I came out here and saw you on the ground with that creep kicking you. I heard you scream out and I grabbed the fucker and threw him to the ground and kicked his own ass. I still think you should call the cops, even if you have your cop at home to tell."

Greg slowly shook his head and regretted even the little movement as his head spun. "No, I may be in love with a cop but since my past I rather stay clear of all others."

Terry sighed in resignation. "Fine, no cops. Now do you think you can sit up?"

Greg tried to move but felt a sharp pain go up his spine. "Fuck, give me a moment," he said to Terry as he worried about what kind of damage possibly happened to his back. "I should call Nick," Terry said. Greg reached out and grabbed Terry's arm.

"NO!" he said sharply. "He's still recovering from a gunshot. I'll get up and you can take me to the hospital to get checked out but I don't want Nick to know until I get home. Please!"

Terry shook his head again. "You are a weird guy, Greg but I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Thank you!" Greg cringed as he tried to move. He finally managed to sit up but with great pain in his back and head. He reached out his hand to Terry. "Help me up, please."

Terry stood up and then took his hand. Greg got up slowly and unsteadily. Terry helped steady him up. "You're in bad shape," Terry said to him.

"It's my back, my old injury he aggravated." Greg said to him. Terry helped him to his own SUV and helped him in. He got behind the wheel and looked at his passenger. Greg had his head back against the head rest. Blood dripped down the side of his head from where he was hit.

"Reach in my glove compartment. There is a towel there you can put to your head," Terry told him. Greg did as he said. "Thanks man," he said as he winced while putting the towel to the cut on his head.

A couple hours later Terry was dropping Greg off at home. Greg thanked him for all his help and waved goodbye to him. As Greg approached the front door to his home, he tried to think of how he was going to go in and deal with Nick. Maybe he would be lucky and Nick would still be asleep and not notice he was home a little later than normal. He felt the top of his head where he had received 12 stitches for the cut he received from the bottle that Frankie hit him with. That would not be that easy to hide but would be harder was the pain he was in from his back. The doctor told him he had a deep bruise that was swelling and gave him some 600MG ibuprofen, knowing he could not be given any narcotic with his past drug use.

He could hardly walk straight because of the pain he was in. He put his key in the door and opened it up. He walked in and locked it behind him. He walked slowly so he would not be in so much pain. He came into the living room and that's when he saw Nick. Nick was on the sofa seemingly waiting for him to come home.

"You think you could have called and told me you were going to be late?" Nick scolded him.

"I'm sorry. I had a bad night," he told him. He was hoping he could just take a shower and go to bed without much conversation.

Nick noticed he looked like hell and was walking sort of funny. "What's wrong with you? What made it a bad night?"

Greg now knew he would not let him go until he told him but he wasn't going to tell him the whole truth. He didn't need more worry from Nick if he knew the actual truth.

"I was trying to help break up a bar fight outside when I left when I sort of got in the middle of it in the wrong way," he shrugged. He stayed standing because he knew it would be more obvious if he sat down of the pain he was in.

Nick became concerned suddenly. "Were you hurt?" Greg lowered his head a little and pointed to where he had the stitches. Nick jumped up and looked more closely.

Greg lifted his head and saw the mix of emotions wash over Nick's face; shock, worry, hurt and anger. "You went to the hospital and didn't even bother to call me and let me know you were hurt?"

"Look, you just got home from the hospital a day ago. I really didn't want you to get worked up. I'm going to be okay. I'm just really tired and want to take a shower. Can we talk more about it when I wake up, please?" He tried giving his best puppy dog eyes to Nick.

It seemed to have worked. Nick softened up. "Does it hurt?"

"Yeah some but they gave me some prescription strength ibuprofen to take. I'm just really beat…um… no pun intended," he smirked. Nick smiled. "Take your shower. I'll meet you in bed."

Once in the bathroom, Greg gingerly removed his clothes, gritting his teeth from the pain in his back the whole time. He already took 2 ibuprofen but they didn't seem to be doing the job. He hoped maybe the shower would make him feel better with the warm water on his back.

It did feel slightly better as he stepped out of the shower. He put on his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt before walking out of the bathroom. He really didn't want Nick to know about his back problems. He knew it would be cause for concern and he would have every right to be concerned.

Greg walked out and saw Nick in bed. He also spied the OxyContin by his bedside. What he would give to have a couple of those in his system right now but that was how he got hooked in the first place. That's what also had him not trusting his self. The pull was strong with the pain he was enduring. Fortunately over the years he was good at hiding the pain most of the time.

He looked away from the pills and went to the bed, sitting down slowly on the side before pulling his legs under the covers. He gritted his teeth the whole time, trying not to let one peep of the pain he was in out. Lying on his back was not going to work, so he was on his side, away from Nick right away.

"You feel better after the shower?" Nick asked him quietly.

"Yes," he said through a yawn. He really was tired. He guessed it was the slight concussion he failed to mention he had that was causing it.

"Okay I get it. Get some sleep and we'll talk more in the morning," Nick chuckled a little. "I love you," he said to him before closing his eyes.

Greg closed his eyes and said "I love you too," back to him before he was out like a light.

Nick woke up and looked over at Greg. He was still sleeping. He was happy to see that for once he seemed to really be getting the sleep he needed. Although he did worry that it might have been due to the cut he took on the head. He really wished he would have had more details on what happened to him before he went to sleep. But at least he seemed to be okay and that made him happy.

He heard a little groan from Greg. He took that as a sign that he was waking up. He decided to snuggle closer to him and wrap his arms around his back.

"Aaaahhh, no," Greg yelled suddenly in pain and pulled Nick's arms off of him. Nick retreated back on the bed, alarmed at his scream in pain. It was not just his head that was injured he gathered now.

"Don't touch me! Fuck." Greg cursed as he waited for the pain to subside in his back. These pills were not working as well as he hoped.

"Well perhaps if you had told me before you went to sleep that your head is not the only part of you that got hurt, I would have hurt you," Nick yelled back. "You need to tell me everything."

Greg sighed heavily, knowing he would have to now or Nick would never let it go. But yet he would spin the truth his own way. He didn't turn around; he kept on his side with his back to Nick. "Fine, I'll tell you how it went down."

"I was trying to break up this fight between these really two drunk guys. One of them had a bottle of whisky in his hand. When I got between them, that guy hit me over the head with the bottle. I fell to the ground and he began to kick me. It was not until Terry and the custodial guy came out and got him off me. Terry had them taken care of before he came to me and took me to the hospital. He saw I was bleeding from my head and was in pain so he insisted I go."

Nick felt like he was missing something from the story but he could not be sure what. "So your ribs are bruised?" Nick asked him.

He saw Greg shake his head. Greg sighed and reached around his back and lifted his shirt for Nick to see. Nick gasped at the size of the bruise on his back. He knew it was where his scar was too. "Jesus, Greg! What did the doctor say? Did he re-injure anything seriously?"

Greg put his shirt back down. "No, just some swelling and bruising that should go away after a while."

Now Nick was concerned. "How bad does it hurt?"

"Not too bad except when someone touches me there," Greg pointed out.

"Well someone would not have touched you there had you said something prior to me. Why do you insist upon keeping secrets from me? It worries me when you do. It makes me think what else you might be hiding from me," Nick told him.

Greg finally turned over slowly onto his other side, with a slight grimace. He wanted to be able to talk to Nick face to face. "You are still recovering from a gunshot wound. I hardly think what happened to me is something you need to worry about while you are recovering."

"I wish you would let me make my own decisions on that stuff and not make them for me," Nick said angrily.

"I thought that for once I was putting your needs in front of my own. You don't need to be stressing out about me, I'll be fine."

"Yeah but you didn't sound fine when I touched you," Nick said to him.

"It's probably time to take more ibuprofen is all," he shrugged.

"You're not going to work tonight are you?"

"Yes, I am. I can't afford to miss another day." He saw the doubting look that Nick was giving him. "I've gotten through worse days."

Nick knew how he got through a lot of those days and it was with drugs. He was worried about him turning back down that path. He was worried even before this new incident. He knew he had been more depressed lately. It made him think.

"Have you been taking your Prozac?" Greg glared at him. "Yes, I have so this is not me talking without medication. I am medicated so don't worry."

"I love you Greg and I just thought once you started working things would get better but I am not seeing it."

"I already told you that just because I am working don't mean it's a job I want to be working. I mean how many times do we have to have the same conversation?" Frustrated he rolled back over slowly and sat up, trying to hide the pain he felt.

"Where are you going?" Nick asked him.

"Using the bathroom, do you mind?" he responded snidely. Nick backed off on him and decided to sit up himself. He hated dealing with Greg when he was so moody. He missed the fun, happy Greg days but they were long gone. He knew he should not expect them to return after everything that had happened since those days. He had changed too. He himself had grown more cynical to the world over the years. Seeing so many people die from drugs and shootings did it to a person after a while. His career was not always an easy one. Greg seemed to have forgotten what it was like to work with the acts of bad people always being in your face on a daily basis. He would almost trade a day of simple bartending with Greg just to live a simpler life.

The bathroom door opened and Greg came out. He looked at Nick sitting on the edge of the bed. "Do you want anything for breakfast?" he asked him. And just like that Greg had basically told Nick he no longer wanted talk about what they had been talking about.

"I'm going to take a shower first but then I would like whatever you are having." The younger man nodded and walked out of the bedroom. Nick ran a hand through his short hair. It could be so frustrating living with him at times. He went off into the bathroom to get ready to take a shower.

Greg was waiting for Nick to start the shower before he came back into the bedroom. He saw Nick left his pills on his bedside. He walked over there and picked up the bottle. It was still nearly full. The dosage prescribed to Nick was one pill every 8 hours. Greg looked nervously at the bathroom door. He needed something stronger for his pain and he knew he should not be taking them but he could control himself this time around, so he told himself.

He opened the bottle and grabbed a couple pills to get him through the day. He figured he would take one now and one during work. Nick probably wouldn't notice a couple missing. The doctor gave him more than he would need.

He closed the bottle and placed it where it had been. He took one pill into his mouth and swallowed without water, like he had done many times in the past. He pocketed the other one in his jeans pocket. He sighed heavily, hoping this would solve his pain issues without any harm.