Author's Note: A quick note to happyharper13 as I'm too lazy to private message her: You're asking me to explain my symbols? Shame on you! If you badly want to talk about Liver, I suppose we can do so over e-mail. All right, as for the rest of you, I hope this is a little bit of a reprieve for a while. You guys deserve it, and so does Greg. Sheesh, we put him through so much as fans, don't we? All for our own masochistic pleasure.

Chapter Five: In Bethlehem, Long Ago

Greg was trembling when he rose to his feet at the sight of Dr. Norton. He had been at the hospital all day waiting to hear news back about Neil, any news at all.

And when Dr. Norton told him, Greg was disturbed by the fact that he was disappointed.

"He had a mild heart attack," said Dr. Norton. "Don't let that term 'mild' fool you, though, it nearly killed him. I'm impressed it didn't, with the state of his heart."

Greg's jaw went slack. He had nothing to say, so he just nodded.

"He hasn't been taking his medication," Dr. Norton said, his eyes narrowing as if it were an accusation.

"I swear, I didn't know," Greg said, desperately. "Not until today."

"I thought we agreed that you would monitor his medication," Dr. Norton said. "I recommended hiring a nurse—"

"We can't afford it," said Greg with a helpless shrug.

"Well, you obviously can't take care of him all on your own."

"No," Greg admitted. "I can't."

Dr. Norton nodded, understandingly. "We can keep him here for a while, if you like. Make sure he keeps with the regimen."

"How's that transplant list looking?" Greg asked.

Dr. Norton smiled sadly. "A lot of people need hearts, Mr. Sanders, and sometimes there aren't enough to go around. Besides, even if we did get him a new heart, his lungs would never fully recover."

"So he'd be the same as any heavy smoker!" Greg protested. "Are you saying he's not higher up on the list because his heart isn't the only thing that's failing him?"

Dr. Norton's silence said everything.

"But he hasn't done anything wrong…" Greg said, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes and gathered his wits. "He's never smoked. He barely even drinks. He gets tipsy off of one beer for Christ's sake. And he used to run, all the time. He hasn't done anything wrong…"

"We will make him comfortable," said Dr. Norton. "Treat him like royalty. I give you my word."

Greg looked around and ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. "Dr. Norton… there is the matter of Neil's insurance. Now you're a nice guy, which is probably why you haven't brought it up, but I know that money matters."

"We'll keep him for as long as we're able," Dr. Norton said, which translated into We'll keep him until the money runs out.

Greg wrapped his arms around himself. The bank loan had covered the money he had needed for the experimental treatments, and even the regular medication, but he had used up everything. He would have to pay for the hospital stay out of his own pocket again, which was possible, but not preferable.

He nodded, understanding. "Well, thank you, Dr. Norton, for all your effort," he said. "I know that you've done everything that you can."

"The experimental treatment was working," said Dr. Norton.

This was the first Greg had heard this. "What?"

"We recently got the results back," Dr. Norton explained. "The granuloma count was down, and the vascular walls were drastically less inflamed. Do you remember a period when he was feeling better?"

Greg shook his head. The last few months were a blur of illness for him.

"If we put him back on the treatments—"

"How much will it cost?" Greg interjected, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Dr. Norton hesitated a moment. "Seventy-five thousand."

Greg felt dizzy. He could never put a price on Neil's life, but could he afford to save it?

"I think I need to… sit down…" Greg said.

"Of course," said Dr. Norton who led Greg to a nearby chair. "Now, I know the price is steep, but it could be subsidized. If this hospital sponsors the treatment we can reduce the costs by up to thirty percent—"

"Even so, where the hell am I supposed to get fifty thousand dollars then?" Greg broke in, angrily. "I've already taken as much money from my bank as they would give me, the insurance companies won't give me a dime, and I'm maxed out on overtime at my job!"

"There are organizations connected with the hospital that can help you," Dr. Norton assured him. "Nonprofit donations. That sort of thing."

"Charity," Greg deduced flatly.

"Compassion," said Dr. Norton with a shrug. "They exist for the sole purpose of helping people in your exact situation. I can give you their numbers, if you like."

Greg couldn't say no. Not if it would save Neil. He shrugged. "Yeah. Sure. Do it."

"I'll put Neil on the list to receive treatment," Dr. Norton said, turning around.

"Wait, Doc," Greg called, making him stop. "When can I see him?"

Dr. Norton smiled. "Right now, if you like. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

Dr. Norton walked off and Greg steeled his courage before entering into the hospital room. Neil was not looking at him. Instead, his head was turned towards the window. Greg clenched his hands into fists and approached Neil. He then put on a smile, the act he knew by heart, and took a chair by his lover's bed.

"Hey there, babe," he said, sweetly.

Neil turned to him, his face blank. "I really thought that was it," he said quietly.

"You're a survivor," Greg said, encouragingly.

Neil looked away again. "For now."

Greg let his mask falter for an instant before taking it up again. "I've talked to Dr. Norton. They're going to keep you here for a while. Take care of you."

"So you don't have to," Neil whispered, bitterly.

Greg nodded, not knowing what else to say, before he reached out and took Neil's hand. "I'll be here every day, after work. Every hour I can spare, I'll spend here with you. Promise."

Neil pulled his hand out of Greg's grip. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Greg."

"I mean it," Greg insisted, gripping the rail of Neil's hospital bed. "Please, babe, look at me."

Neil calmly obliged, but his gaze was cold. "You really shouldn't have stopped taking your pills. They think I haven't been taking care of you—"

"You haven't," Neil snapped, and then, just as Greg felt his smile falter again, Neil's expression morphed into one of deepest regret. "Oh Greg… I'm sorry… you know I don't mean that. But that's why I stopped taking those pills, Greg! They make me like this. They make me… hate you. Afraid of you. How can I be afraid of the person that I—" He seemed to stop himself, then looked sharply away from Greg. "The pills made me nauseous. Gave me headaches. Made me scared all the time. So I stopped, because I knew it didn't matter anyway. And I just wanted to spend my last days… with you."

Greg inhaled deeply and held his breath a moment before exhaling. "Babe… I'll be by your side every second I can be, I swear." He reached out to take Neil's hand, and this time his boyfriend didn't pull away.

Fresh tears were welling in Neil's eyes. "I don't want to die, Greg… I thought I'd accepted it, but I haven't." He struggled to breathe, and Greg hushed him, standing up and reaching over to stroke Neil's hair.

"Careful, you're recovering from a heart attack."

Neil tried to laugh, but ended up coughing instead. "You say that as if I didn't know."

Greg smiled, the closest to the real thing as he could muster. "The experimental treatment was working," he said quietly. "I've put you back on the list of recipients."

Neil's sunken eyes doubled in size. "What? Can we afford that?"

"You let me worry about that, OK, babe?" Greg said, his hand moving down through his hair to rest against Neil's bony cheek.

But the journalist shook his head. "No… you're broke enough as it is, I can't ask you to pay for that… I won't."

"If it could save your life, I'd pay ten times more," Greg insisted.

"And if it does, I won't ever be able to pay you back," Neil said. "And if it doesn't, I'll be gone, and you'll be in debt."

"Hush," Greg said, pressing his finger against Neil's lips. "If it saves your life, I won't need to be paid back. I'll have you."

"Until death do us part," Neil whispered, his breath rushing across the skin of Greg's finger.

Greg's hand trailed down form Neil's chin to clasp his hand, then looked up into Neil's eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to fight for you," he said. "I'll get the money. I'm this close to signing a pornography contract."

"You know, those actors don't make as much as people think they do," said Neil.

Greg's eyebrows shot up. "I'm curious to know where you procured this little nugget of knowledge," he said, amused.

Neil gave a curt, tired laugh. "Greg, I really love—"

"And how did you know it was acting?" Greg interjected. "I might have been signing a contract to direct."

"You, directing porn? Now there's a laugh," said Neil with a weary smile.

Greg's phone began to buzz and he looked at it. "It's work," he said.

"Do what you have to," Neil sighed sadly, turning to look out the window again.

Greg answered, sounding cheerful. "Hey, Catherine, what's up?"

"Greg, where are you? Your shift started an hour ago."

Greg's heart leapt into his throat and he looked at his watch. "Oh yeah…" he said. "Dammit, I'm sorry, Catherine, I just… lost track of time."

"Well, I wouldn't be so nervous generally," said Catherine, "but you've been begging me for extra work, so it just seemed odd that you wouldn't show up."

"Yeah, I know…" His eyes fell upon Neil's melancholy expression. "I was… with a friend."

"So I expect you'll be here soon?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way." He quietly closed his phone and slid it back into his pocket. "Neil?"

"Mm?" the journalist intoned, turning to look at Greg.

"I gotta go," he said with a sigh.

"Of course you do."

"I'll be back just as soon as I can!" Greg assured him. "And—I'll bring the Nintendo. So you can perfect your skills when I'm not here."

Neil's spirits seemed to lift, moderately. "And then we can race?"

Greg grinned. "And then we can race."

The days passed and Greg worked, and when he wasn't working he tried to stay awake with Neil. It left little time for sleep, but he stole what hours he could from work, successfully dodging Catherine's eyes by napping under Henry's desk when the lab tech went to lunch.

It was during one of these power naps that he was rudely awoken by a kind salutation.

"Merry Christmas!"

He jumped so high he hit his head on the top of the desk and groaned. Rubbing his eyes he looked out under the desk to see Henry's head hanging from the top of it, looking at him upside down with a wild grin on his face.

Greg groaned and moved his hand to the back of his head before crawling out. "OK, I get the point, I'll quit stealing your desk while you're out."

"Oh no, that's fine," said Henry with a shrug as Greg rose to his feet. "I think it's a great idea. You obviously need sleep, and I'm not using it between one and two, am I?"

Greg gave him a confused look as he continued to rub the back of his head. "Then what's with the rude awakening?" he asked with a yawn.

"I just wanted to give you your Christmas present," Henry said cheerfully.

Greg stretched. "Christmas?"

"Yeah," said Henry slowly.

Greg frowned, then panicked. "Today?!"

"No, silly, it just turned Christmas Eve," Henry explained. "It's been the 24th for about two hours, but since I'm taking tomorrow night off, I thought I'd get this to you now." He handed Greg a card in a red envelope, which the CSI examined suspiciously.

"Thanks, Henry, that's really… nice of you," said Greg. "You do this for everyone?"

Henry paused. "Um… sure, yeah, why not? Hey, listen, don't open that until Christmas though, understand? In the spirit and everything."

Greg chuckled, amused by the lab tech's antics. "Yeah, of course."

Henry beamed. "Thanks. Oh, and your clubbing lesbian tested positive for ecstasy." He reached across the table and handed Greg the papers.

"Lesbian?" Greg asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"I thought Nick told you," Henry said. "Hodges says that liquid you found on her fingers was vaginal fluids. And, um, not her own."

Greg's mouth formed into a tiny 'o.' "That would explain the dual-colored lipstick."

"That would be my guess too," said Henry, then quickly added, "Oh yeah, and did Hodges tell you about the chalk on your murder weapon in the stabbing case?"

Greg tried to recall. "Yeah. We heard it was chalk."

"A thought occurred to me," said Henry, leaning in, his eyes bulging, as if this were a big secret. "You know who uses chalk?" he said, in a stage whisper. "Rock climbers."

Greg nodded slowly, his jaw hanging open. "Uh huh. Thanks, Henry." He patted the lab tech on the shoulder before moving past him and out into the hall, where he was lucky enough to catch Nick passing by. He jogged to catch up.

"Hey," Greg called, making Nick slow but not stop. The younger man matched Nick's pace. "Why didn't you tell me our victim was a lesbian?"

"I thought you could focus more on the stabbing case," Nick replied, innocently.

"But we've been waiting for results on that," Greg replied.

"I know," said Nick, "but you've been… distracted lately. I thought I'd give you a little less pressure."

Greg stopped walking and Nick continued a moment before reluctantly stopping himself and turning to face Greg. "Stop it," Greg said simply, his eyes somber.

"Stop what?" Nick asked with a shrug.

"Handling me with kid gloves," Greg explained, closing the distance between them. "I don't need less pressure. I need more money."

"Maybe you need both," Nick suggested. "Look, Greg, something made you break down like that in the—"

"I thought you weren't going to bring that up again!" Greg hissed.

Nick dutifully bit his tongue. "OK. But you and I both know that it takes a lot to break you."

"How do you know that?" Greg asked, quietly.

Nick seemed suddenly flustered. "I know you, Greg. The things you face every day, and how you face them. Mostly, with a smile. If you want my opinion—"

"I don't," Greg hissed.

"—I think you've been smiling too long," Nick continued anyway.

"Am I smiling now?" Greg challenged.

But something made Nick laugh. "No, now you're trying to be intimidating, and failing miserably."

Greg snorted. "Kiss my ass."

There was a playful spark hiding in Nick's eyes when he said, "Gladly."

Greg managed a slightly confused smile. "OK, you win the Awkward Award. So keep me in the loop about this case, would you?"

"Relax, Greg," said Nick as they continued in their stroll down the hall. "You know, it just became Christmas Eve a few hours ago?"

"So I heard," Greg mumbled, rubbing the back of his head again.

"Well, I think it's time that you… had a little fun," Nick said, mysteriously.

Greg frowned right as they turned into the break room. "What do you mean a little—"

"Surprise!"

He nearly fell over backwards. The sudden flood of light into his pupils made him blink a few times to focus them and he saw Catherine, Riley, Langston, Brass and several lab techs there, all decked out in holiday colors. At second glance, he noticed that even Nick had managed to wear a green sweater with the collar of a red shirt poking out from beneath. He frowned at the clashing colors.

"I feel like I missed the memo…" he said, looking at all of his friends.

"You weren't sent the memo," said Riley, who looked like an overgrown elf with her green hat and matching dress. She pinned a sprig of holly to the lapel of Greg's blazer. "This was a surprise."

"Why?" Greg asked, smiling at Catherine, who was sporting a festive Santa hat. "You know I hate it when you don't send me memos."

Catherine shrugged. "Nick told us that you could use a little Christmas spirit," she said.

"I'm excited," said Riley, displaying it in her grin. "Growing up, we didn't celebrate Christmas. My parents found it to be a needless display of commercialism and materialism."

"You didn't celebrate Christmas at all?" Greg asked, gaping.

"Well, a bit, I guess," said Riley. "My dad liked the eggnog. And my mother liked the look of mistletoe. The combination of the two often sent me to bed early."

"You missed out on Christmas?!" Greg exclaimed. "I don't believe it."

"Well, it may be because my granddad's Jewish," Riley suggested with a smirk. Then it faded. "Hey, we didn't do Hanukah either. Now I feel double gypped."

Nick laughed and hit her on the shoulder, handing her some eggnog. "Here," he said. "Make like your father."

She raised the glass to her lips gleefully before saying, "Ah, sweet nectar of egg." Then she frowned suspiciously at Nick. "There isn't any rum in this, is there?"

"Not officially," said Nick with a wink, and she chortled and began to mingle.

Greg cast Nick an exasperated, but grateful expression. "You told them I needed Christmas spirit?"

"Hey, I know, what happened in the car, stays in the car. All I said was, I thought everyone around here could use a party. Catherine was the one who mentioned you specifically."

Greg smiled, oddly touched by the blonde's perceptiveness. But soon, that faded, and he was guilty again. "Catherine's noticed my performance has dropped…"

"What?" Nick exclaimed, on the verge of horror. "No, how did you get that from what I said? She's worried about how tired you are all the time. You've lost weight. Have you even noticed?"

"No," Greg confessed. He had been focusing on Neil's health more than his own as of late.

Nick nodded, wordlessly for a moment. There was a tense silence between them before the Texan decided to speak up. "So how is your friend doing?"

Greg was instantly on his guard. "I really don't want to talk about it, Nick," he said.

"I've been thinking…" said Nick slowly. "And I hope you don't mind me asking, but what about his family? Why aren't his parents helping out with the bills? Or a wife, or siblings, or something?"

"His parents died when he was nineteen," Greg said thoughtlessly. "Drowned when their boat sank off of the Ivory Coast. He's an only child…" And then, barely above a whisper, "I'm the only family he's got."

Nick didn't know what to say to this, though he seemed surprised that Greg was being so honest with him. "Hey, Greg, if you need any help with… anything at all..."

Greg's smile swiftly returned and he nodded. "You're awesome to offer," he said, sincerely. "But I'm getting along fine."

"Are you?"

"I think so," Greg said, with a shrug. He raked a hand through his hair. "Actually… since you asked… Neil is doing pretty well. He's on this new experimental treatment which involves a hell of a lot of physical therapy and medication and other things I don't really understand. But the point is, it's working. I really think things are going to be OK."

"And who's paying for that treatment?" Nick asked.

"That's too far, Nick," said Greg. He saw Wendy over Nick's shoulder and beamed at her. "Wendy!" he called as he approached. "How are things in the old lab?"

Greg could feel Nick's gaze linger on his back as he walked away.

Greg entered the room and Neil turned and greeted him with a fortified smile.

"Merry Christmas," Greg whispered as he closed the door behind him. He placed the tree he carried on the windowsill before turning to his lover, who moved over on the bed.

"Merry Christmas," Neil replied, beckoning Greg over. "Did you get me anything?"

Greg smirked before he produced a gift from the pocket of his blazer and waved it at Neil, whose blue eyes lit up like Christmas tree lights as he grinned stupidly and clapped his hands together.

"Gimme!"

Greg obliged and handed him the gift, which Neil enthusiastically unwrapped. He beamed at what he saw. "James Bond and Call of Duty for DS? Oh my God, come over here right now!" He slammed on the space in the bed next to him.

Greg chuckled. "You actually think I can fit on there with you?"

"The closer you are, the better," said Neil. "Try it."

Greg tested the bed by sitting on the edge of it, facing Neil. The journalist leaned forward and embraced him, their lips connecting comfortably, tenderly. Greg allowed himself to relish the soft kiss, the delicate grasp Neil held on his back. He smiled and broke the kiss and Neil laughed quietly.

"You're in a better mood," Greg said.

"I think you and the Doc were right about the treatments," Neil said. "I still feel like crap, but I don't have as many coughing fits or chest constrictions. Maybe there's a light at the end of this tunnel after all."

Greg leaned forward and kissed him again, feeling relaxed for the first time in months. Neil's hands roamed down Greg's back as his mouth moved up to Greg's ear. "I've missed you… this…"

The hand moved further down, over the pockets of Greg's jeans.

"Wait…" He pulled back, withdrawing his hands which held a red envelope. He waved it in front of Greg's face. "What's this?"

Greg plucked it from his cocky fingers. "A Christmas card a coworker gave me."

"Well aren't you going to open it?" Neil asked.

Greg shrugged. "I promised him I wouldn't, until Christmas."

"Oh come on," Neil cajoled. "It's Christmas Eve, and I don't see him around anywhere, do you? Besides, it's a frickin' card. Open it."

Greg rolled his eyes. "You, Mr. Cooper, are a terrible influence on me," he said as he opened the envelope.

"What did I tell you about calling me Mr. Cooper?" Neil said with a smirk.

Greg laughed, grateful for the endorphins as he pulled out the card. "Aw, Henry…" he said, upon seeing the dorky cartoon reindeer on the front. Greg rolled his eyes and opened the card. His smile ran away from his face.

"What's wrong?" Neil asked, reaching out and sliding an arm around Greg's waist.

Greg blinked, then frowned and closed the card, shoving it back in the envelope. "Nothing," he said, hastily.

"Let me see, then!" Neil cried.

Greg shook his head. "It's private," he said.

"Aw, did your coworker confess his love for you?" Neil asked, sounding amused.

"Ew, no," Greg said, shaking his head.

"You could tell me if he did, though," Neil assured him. "I'd think it was adorable. And, I mean, let's face it, who hasn't fallen in love with you?"

"Several people," Greg told him, stuffing the envelope in his back pocket. He took a deep breath and sighed, looking at Neil fondly as he shook his head. "God, what did I do to deserve someone as gorgeous as you?"

"Oh please," Neil said flatly. "I look like crap, don't give me that."

Greg smiled as he gave Neil another gentle kiss before pulling away again. "I think Shakespeare wrote a sonnet about you."

"Well, he was bi, and I used to be hot, so I guess it's possible."

"Nuh uh," said Greg, shaking his head. "It's that other one. Um…" He struggled to recall his high school English class. "Something about… my mistress's eyes being not like the sun."

Neil snorted. "Sonnet 130. You're such an asshole."

"No, no, no!" Greg protested. "How did that sonnet end again?"

Neil gave him a stern look before he complied. "And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare…" He smiled. "So I'm your mistress now, am I?"

Greg smirked playfully. "Does that bother you?"

Neil considered it for a minute. "No, not really." There was a beat, and then, "You're still an asshole."

They laughed for a moment, and then the laughter faded. Neil reached out and took Greg's hand. "I really couldn't have done any of this without you," he said. "You really have saved my life, Greg."

"Don't get soft on me now, Cooper," Greg scolded. "It's Christmas Eve, for God's sake."

"And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Lay down, babe," Greg said, already seizing the remote for the bed.

"More horizontal," said Neil playfully as the bed moved beneath him. When he was flat on his back, he smirked. "I like it."

Greg pushed him over and laid down next to him, placing his head on the pillow and drawing his arms into his chest as Neil pulled the hospital blankets over both of them and wrapped his arms possessively around Greg.

"Thanks for this Christmas, Greg," Neil whispered. "I didn't think I'd see it this year."

"You'll see it next year, too, and just wait. It'll be even better than this."

"How can it be better than this?" Neil asked.

"Well, we won't be in a hospital for one," Greg said. "And I might be wearing something a little more festive."

"I'd prefer it if you weren't wearing anything at all," Neil replied with a smirk.

"I was thinking a nice red hat," Greg continued, thoughtfully. "And… that's it."

"Mm, I like that idea," Neil said, kissing Greg. "I can't wait."

Greg stayed there in that bed with Neil for a long time, happy, for once, to fall asleep in his arms rather than the other way around. But he woke up suddenly and inexplicably. He thought that a dream might have been to blame, but he couldn't remember it.

Carefully, so as not to disturb his lover, who was sleeping quietly for the first time in months, Greg slipped out of the bed and looked at his watch. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out Henry's Christmas card, which he carefully slipped out of the envelope and opened again.

Dear Greg. I knew if I gave you a check, you would just tear it up. But then I realized the difficulty of shoving all those hundred dollar bills into a card, so please don't tear up the check, it would really hurt my feelings. Oh, and I won't take no for an answer. Consider it a Christmas gift. And no, you don't have to get me anything. Happy Holidays, Henry.

Greg smiled fondly as he thought of the lab tech then, suddenly guilty that he had been so dismissive of the man earlier when he was positing his theories about the murder. Greg ran his fingers over the check.

He looked up at the ceiling, folded the check inside the card and slid it back into the envelope. His eyes drifted to Neil's sleeping form and he sighed.