Author's Note: Sorry this is taking so long. School is catching up with me. One more chapter to go after this, where some of your hanging questions will be answered, cross my heart.

ooo

Greg wasn't sure how, but eventually he ended up lying on Nick's bed, staring at the ceiling. The dose of Valium was enough to keep him sedated, but not enough to allow him to fall into unconsciousness. He was very conscious of the fact that Nick wasn't lying beside him. He had forgotten where his friend had gone. He knew Nick had told him, but he couldn't remember what he had said. He hated the drugs. He hated the disappointed look in Nick's eyes every time the Texan looked at him.

And then, the bedroom door opened, and Greg took great pains to turn his head and see Nick standing there, holding a washcloth in one hand and a bottle of Valium in the other. He placed them both on the end table on his side.

"I'm scared, Nicky," Greg breathed.

Nick nodded. "Me too, G." He climbed onto the bed quietly and moved towards Greg, who couldn't move. The older man's hand reached out and began stroking Greg's curls. Greg closed his eyes.

"What if I don't get better?"

"You will," Nick assured him in soothing tones. "I know you. You want to get better, don't you?"

"So badly..."

"Then you will," Nick said, confidently. He continued to stroke Greg's hair, tenderly, reassuringly, a constant reminder that he was there, with him. "If you want it, then you will."

"I don't think it's that simple," Greg whispered, blinking at Nick.

The Texan smiled, but his eyes were sad. His hand moved down from his hair and around to cup Greg's cheek. His thumb moved across Greg's lips and back again, as if mapping them for future reference. "I don't believe that. I think that if you want it badly enough, if you try hard enough, then you can do this. I believe in you, Greg. And I know you're stronger than this."

"But what if I'm not?" Greg pressed. "What if... what if there's more to it?"

Nick sighed. "Greg..."

"No, seriously," Greg insisted. "What if... what if there's something that you don't know?"

Nick didn't move. "What don't I know, Greg?"

Greg focused on the quiet clouds in his mind and tried to cling to them, tried to use them to relax the tension in his body, but grasping at clouds was inevitably the same as grasping at mist, and every time he did the only thing he succeeded in doing was scattering them further away from him.

"Nick... I'm really scared."

"You said that already."

"But it's not just the drugs, it's..." He took a deep breath. "Listen, I don't know if I... actually have it or anything, and to be fair there's a good chance I don't, but..."

"It's Camellia, isn't it?" Nick asked, his eyes sharp. "She... gave you something."

Greg held his breath a moment. "Yes. Maybe. I mean, I don't know if I have it, like I said..."

"What is it?" Nick pressed. "Syphilis, Herpes, Gonorrhea...? Whatever it is, Greg, I don't—"

"It's called... the Human Immunodeficiency Virus. And Camellia has it." Greg's eyes were closed when he said it, in order to spare himself from the pain of Nick's expression. But his imagination crafted images that were far worse than reality. Hurt, hate, disgust... Nick's face was contorted like a gargoyle, casting judgment on him. Greg couldn't bear to make his nightmare real, and so kept his eyes closed, waiting for a response, for a word, a movement, anything that would tell him what was going on.

And after waiting for what felt like an hour, Greg got his wish, though it wasn't what he had expected.

There were no words. No gasps of surprise, no grunts of disgust or groans of pity. There were only arms, strong, burly arms that encircled him, a hand in his hair, pressing Greg's face into the comfort of a soft, warm cotton shirt, and he tensed in the protective embrace because he knew he didn't deserve it. He was tainted, he was disgusting, and deserved to be pushed away, not pulled closer, not by anyone, least of all by Nick.

Someone was kissing the top of his scalp, lips in his hair, the breath from between them swirling around in Greg's curls, but neither of them spoke a word. Greg's mind eventually came to the conclusion that even though he may not deserve the embrace, there was no way he was going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he accepted it. And as he accepted it, he allowed his body to relax, to be taken over by Nick's steady grip, to liquefy in his arms.

Nick held him tightly, steadily. He wasn't shaking, and his breathing was normal. Greg found that he was calm as well, although a part of that, he realized, could have been blamed on the Valium in his system. But the two of them laid there in silence, neither saying anything because there was no more to say. Nick didn't need to ask how Greg thought he procured the virus from Camellia. That had already been clear. And Greg didn't need to ask if Nick hated him, because his actions spoke louder than his words ever could. Nick didn't need to tell Greg how sorry he was, how worried he was, because Greg was feeling it too.

Greg exhaled and the fog of calm returned to him in Greg's arms. He still couldn't quite fall asleep, but he was content just to lie there with Nick. He took deep breaths and felt Nick's fingers contract and expand again in his hair, massaging his scalp, twirling his curls around Nick's fingers. The hand moved down to the nape of Greg's neck, which he gently rubbed.

After what felt like forever, Greg finally breathed into Nick's chest, "Thank you."

Nick said nothing in reply, he just continued in his soothing actions. A small smile graced Greg's lips. This had been all he wanted. All he needed.

Some time later, Greg's body began to tingle, and he knew that the Valium was wearing off. He had no idea how long they had been lying there on that bed, but Nick was still there, holding him, and so Greg could care less how long it had been. But he pulled away, making Nick's hand fall against Greg's shoulder. Greg adjusted himself so they were eyelevel and less than a breath away from each other. He peered into Nick's orbs momentarily, which were cloudy and dark, but he couldn't look away. But eventually, he succeeded in closing his eyes and leaning forward, meeting Nick's lips with his in quiet gratitude, to express everything that could never be spoken.

It was Nick who turned the chaste, grateful kiss into a much deeper, more intimate one when he pushed himself closer to Greg, his tongue slipping between Greg's lips, his hand clenching on Greg's shoulder, and Greg returned it eagerly, chills flooding his body that he was sure went far beyond the effects of the drugs.

And then, finally, Greg pulled away, his cheeks burning in shame and he leaned his forehead against Nick's, averting his gaze. Nick seemed to detect this unusual change, and he tucked a stray curl behind Greg's ear.

"You're not... afraid..." Greg noted.

"Afraid of what?" he said, his voice low and husky.

"Me. You're not afraid of me."

The hand became flat against his ear and slid down to his cheek. "I think you give yourself too much credit," he said.

"What?"

Nick was smiling. "You're not as scary as you think you are."

Something inside Greg fainted. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

"You're right," said Nick, and then, right against his ear, he whispered, "You deserve so much better than me."

"You know that's not—"

"Don't even try, Greg," Nick interrupted. "You know you're better than that."

Greg couldn't help but let out a tired laugh. "You're right," he said smugly, twisting in Nick's arms. He rested his head against the pillow and grasped Nick's hands, pulling them around his waist. "I am."

Outside the window, Greg could see the pink and violet fingers of dawn creeping up over the windowsill. He sighed, but his smile didn't waver.

Nick nuzzled Greg's neck. "Is this what you wanted?"

"No," said Greg as he studied the morning sky. "No, it's... so much more."

ooo

Two Months Later...

His eyes were closed as he regulated his breathing. Ten seconds in, ten seconds out. He focused on tensing and relaxing all his muscles in turn. His fingers, his hands, his arms, his shoulders, then down his torso, all the way to his toes.

A knock on his door aroused him from his concentration. He opened one eye. "Yeah?"

Sylvia cracked it open and greeted him with a smile. "You have a visitor. Would you like to see her now?"

"Her?" Greg asked out of curiosity and mute disappointment, propping himself up on his bed. "Yeah, sure, Sylvie, send her in."

The door opened wider and Sylvia stepped back, revealing Greg's visitor. She slid in through the door, which Sylvia closed behind her, and moved to a chair by Greg's bed, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap. She smiled up at him.

"You look pretty good," she told him, as if this were a surprise.

"You were expecting a corpse?" Greg returned with half a smirk.

"The way Nick was talking about you, yeah, kinda," she confessed. "How are you doing, Greg?"

"Great," he told her. "Considering. Nick talks to you about me?"

"Often."

Greg felt his cheeks grow slightly warmer. "Oh... What does he tell you... about me?"

She chuckled. "Nothing you should be ashamed of," she told him vaguely.

"It's good to see you again, Sara," Greg said, sincerely.

"I would have been here sooner," Sara replied, "only I wasn't sure what kind of person I would find here."

"I can understand that," Greg admitted. "There was a long time where I was afraid to look at myself in the mirror for fear of what I'd see looking back."

She moved her chair closer to his bed, her smile broadening. "But you look... great," she told him. "Honestly, you do. And you should be proud of what you overcame. It's tough."

"Yeah... yeah, I know," he said. "Believe me, you don't have to tell me how tough it was." They both laughed. "But I learned something, too. I learned that even smart people can make stupid decisions. Based on all the things they think they know..."

"I have something for you," said Sara. "The nurse, Sylvia, asked me to give it to you. It's your mail."

Greg stiffened. "Oh?" He tried to sound disinterested, but Sara could tell that he knew what was coming.

"Nick mentioned that you got tested for HIV a few weeks ago," said Sara.

"The, um..." He coughed, "first test came back negative, but that was only two weeks after exposure, so I thought... just to be safe..."

She nodded and handed him a sienna envelope. "Well, now you'll know for sure, won't you?"

He stared at the envelope in her hand. "Would you... mind? I mean, I don't think I can—"

"It's OK, Greg," Sara assured him, pulling the envelope back again. "It's OK to be scared."

Greg sighed and looked down at his bed. Sara slowly opened the envelope and pulled the papers out. She stared at it as Greg waited, with bated breath, for her to say something.

"Huh," she said.

Greg frowned. "'Huh'? 'Huh' what? What does that mean?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Did you know that you have high cholesterol? You should watch that."

"Sara!"

"It's negative!" she said quickly, unable to suppress a laugh. "Greg, you're going to be just fine."

All the tension melted away and a soft sigh of relief escaped his lips. "Oh thank God... Sara..."

She smiled and reached out to take his hand. "You're getting better, Greg."

"Maybe..." Greg muttered. "My mind's still fuzzy without the drugs... The doctors say that my brain should be back to normal after a year or so of being off the pills. I'm... pretty lucky, aren't I, Sara?"

She nodded. "Yes, you are. In a number of ways."

Greg looked out the window. "I almost threw everything away," he whispered, "because I thought I was unlucky."

"We have our fair share of ups and downs," Sara said. "You are lucky to have someone like Nick to take care of you. You are lucky that you didn't kill your brain with Valium. And you're really lucky you avoided HIV."

Greg sighed. "I'm lucky I survived after the attack in the alley... Warrick never came out of his alley, did he?"

Sara tried to smile warmly, but her eyes were sad. "It's because of Warrick that we have to learn to appreciate what we have."

"Which is each other," said Greg.

She nodded. "That's right." She rose to her feet. "Nick sends his love. He says he would have come with me today, but he's been putting in a bunch of overtime lately..."

Greg shrugged, trying to hide his disappointment. "Tell him it's OK..."

She looked up at him, her eyes sincere. "It's not," she said. "Has he come to see you at all, since you've checked in here?"

Greg avoided her gaze. "Things are hard..." he said, spouting the usual rationalizations. "He calls, though. We talk on the phone a lot. But you know, he's busy, and..."

Sara nodded. "We're all worried about you. Nick most of all."

"Maybe he's afraid of what he'll see in me," said Greg. He looked up at Sara. "Like you were."

Sara rose to her feet and nodded. "I think you're right."

"I get out on Tuesday," said Greg. "Still have the support group, but now that I've been detoxed, they trust me enough to live on my own now."

"Super," said Sara. "I'll be here to pick you up and take you home."

ooo

He made his way to the front desk at noon and Lana the receptionist smiled up at him and slid a clipboard his way.

"Congratulations, Mr. Sanders," she said brightly. "What are you going to do with all your new free time?"

"Attempt to find a job," Greg replied. "I don't think they'll rehire me where I used to work."

"Well, good luck with that." She was still smiling. Greg realized that she must ask this of every addict checking out of the clinic. It reminded him of the phrases he regurgitated to grieving families when he had to ask them what happened. He doubted she was actually interested in Greg's life at all. She was just doing her job and being friendly.

He decided to shake things up a little. "You gonna miss me, Lana?"

She looked amused. "Miss you? Are you kidding? Go on, get out of here, you sap! I think I saw a car outside with your name on it."

Greg chuckled lightly to himself, in good humor, and lifted his suitcase and made his way out the door. He saw a car, but it wasn't a Prius. He hesitated, but then it honked at him, so he approached it, wondering if Sara had bought a new car, or if she had sold her old one and was renting while she was in the city. Still, the car was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't tell why until he opened the passenger door.

It was when he saw the driver that the memories came back.

He didn't get into the car.

"Come on," said the driver. "What are you waiting for?"

Greg offered him a nervous smile. "Hey, Nick."

Nick turned his head and grinned at Greg. "Hey. Now get in the car."

Greg, slightly assuaged by Nick's expression, obliged and closed the door. Nick began to drive.

"I thought Sara was picking me up," Greg said after a moment.

"I convinced her that it would be better if I did it," Nick confessed. He seemed to blush a little. "I missed you."

"Then why didn't you come to see me?" The question slipped out, unwanted. Greg hadn't meant to sound accusatory, but he couldn't have helped it. "I mean..."

"No, it's OK, you're right," said Nick. "Sara's already given me hell about it. I don't know, I just... I wasn't sure if you would want to see me."

Greg blinked, confused. "Why wouldn't I want to see you? You were the person I kept hoping to see. Every time they said someone had come to see me, I always..." He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by this admission. "No, maybe it's better you didn't come. I don't... I don't want to be reliant on you or anything."

Nick sighed. "No, I should have come. Which is why I came today. I wanted to... make up for it. I just thought, since, you know, I was there, I saw you... break, that you would be embarrassed or something about seeing me." He paused. "Wait, who other than Sara came to see you?"

"I'm not that unpopular," Greg said, at an attempt at levity. "I have friends outside of you and Sara."

"Who?" Nick pressed, sounding almost jealous.

The emotion baffled Greg. "A couple people," he said, being intentionally vague. "Why do you care so much?"

"It wasn't..." Nick began, then changed course. "She didn't come to see you, did she?"

Greg cocked an eyebrow, but Nick was watching the road and couldn't see. "She? Who's she? Catherine came, if that's what you mean."

"No," said Nick. "No, I mean... that girl. The one who messed you up. Camellia. Ana Peréz."

Greg suddenly understood. "Oh. No, she didn't... She doesn't care enough about me to do that."

"Mm," Nick muttered. "Are you saying I don't care—"

"What?!" Greg interjected, before Nick could even suggest it.

"Look, Greg, I'm sorry I didn't come, OK, but quit throwing it in my face!"

"I'm not!" Greg cried incredulously. "I'm really not, OK, there's no need for you to get defensive—"

"I'm not getting defensive," Nick interrupted, curtly. "I'm not, I just... I want you to understand that I do care. I care a lot, OK, I just... I was confused. I didn't know what to do. I was... I was scared, Greg."

"You were afraid of what I'd be like, during my withdrawal," Greg muttered quietly.

Nick frowned. "What? No! No, Greg, I saw you during your withdrawal, and... and yeah, that did scare me, but that wasn't what I was afraid of when I thought about going to see you. I was..." He chewed on his lip and sighed, gripping the wheel tightly. "OK, listen... promise you won't... think I'm stupid or something when I say this."

Greg was even more confused than when he had first entered into this conversation. "Nick, I could never..."

"OK, well..." He was hesitant and strangely self-conscious, which was highly unusual for Nick. "I thought... the only time you ever seemed to be... interested, in me, I mean, was when you were... delusional. I was worried that when you were sober again, you'd wake up and... regret all the things you said and I didn't... I didn't want you to regret them, you see, because they were... they felt so... Gyah, can we just forget I said this?"

Greg was quiet for a moment as he stared at Nick, but the Texan kept his eyes resolutely on the road. Finally, the younger man whispered, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why forget it? Nick... I'll be honest. I don't remember everything I said, but I know that I probably meant it. I've been wanting to say so many things to you, but I didn't because I knew... I thought that you wouldn't... well, appreciate them."

Nick didn't reply, and Greg tried to read his features. He turned into a parking lot of a fast food restaurant.

"Are you hungry...?" Greg asked.

Nick pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. He turned his head and looked at Greg with soft brown eyes and slowly smiled. "Sara tells me you're going to be OK."

"Yeah," said Greg. "I mean, I have meetings once a week, but all in all—"

"No, I mean, your health," Nick clarified. "You're OK."

Greg held his breath, then sighed. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm gonna be OK."

"You know, it wouldn't have made a difference to me if that test came back positive," said Nick. "I want to be with you, Greg. I don't think anything should get in the way of that. Not anymore."

"You... you want... me?" Greg's mouth was dry as he felt a smile stretch his lips. "I want to be with you, too."

Nick was beaming now, his face flushing as he leaned across the space between them, placing a warm hand on Greg's cheek and the younger man leaned into it, closing his eyes and moving his head like a cat desperate to be petted.

"I really did miss you, Greg," Nick whispered, moving closer to Greg and pressing their foreheads together. Greg could feel Nick's breath against his lips. "Holding you in my bed the night before you left for the clinic... The bed has felt empty ever since."

Greg had been without Nick for two whole months and he was unable to restrain himself any longer. He darted forward and claimed Nick's lips for his own, and the Texan greedily returned the kiss, inhaling sharply on impact, pushing himself as close to Greg as possible.

That night, Greg returned to Nick's bed, and it would never be empty again.