Author's Note: Welcome to a fresh new week. Thanks for all your fabulous and fascinating reviews, I love reading them and hearing that this is appreciated so you reviewers are fantastic.

Chapter Six: In Sickness And In Health

Greg looked over his fan of cards at the pile, glad for the lack of murders in Las Vegas in the first few weeks of the New Year. He glanced at the cards laid out in front of him, then up at Nick.

"I thought you were going to visit your family this season," Greg said, drawing a new card before he discarded.

"They're up visiting my sister in Seattle," Nick muttered, watching Greg's move. "How's your friend?"

"Recovering nicely," Greg replied.

"And the money?"

"Not your problem."

Nick glanced at the discard pile before drawing a fresh card. "So you'd say you're doing well then?"

"I am," Greg admitted, and then he thought about it. "Yeah, I really am."

"And how's your girlfriend taking all this?" Nick asked, almost smugly.

"What girlfriend?" Greg asked, looking at Nick's discarded ace and contemplating taking it. And then, he realized what Nick was asking. "Oh. Oh yeah, um, we broke up."

"Really?" Nick asked. "But I thought you were serious."

"Mm, no, too many issues," Greg said, snatching Nick's card and replacing it with another one. "Couldn't work it out."

"I remember a fight a few months back," Nick murmured, leaning back in his chair.

"Hey, are we still getting paid to be here?" Greg asked, looking at the door of the break room. "Because that's the only reason I'm still around."

"He's not your friend, is he?" Nick asked, drawing a new card from the deck and the eying the discard pile regretfully.

"Who?" Greg asked. "Henry?"

"Henry?" Nick cried. "Who said anything about Henry?"

Greg slumped and pursed his lips. "He's been on my mind. I don't think I give him enough credit. Or, you know, attention. Or anything. Do you know when his birthday is?"

"No," Nick said simply. "Your turn."

"I know," Greg said, drawing a new card. "I think we should all pitch in and throw him a surprise party."

"I'm game for that," said Nick, waiting for Greg's fingers to leave the discard pile. He snatched up three cards. "Gin," he said, laying down what was left in his hands.

"Dammit, that's two aces in the hole," Greg complained, throwing down his cards which held a majority of face cards. "What's the score?"

"I lost track," Nick said, seemingly uninterested. He gathered up the cards.

"I haven't counted—"

"I'll give you that game," Nick said as he shuffled. He looked up at Greg. "Tell me about your friend Neil."

Without the distraction of the cards, Greg's full attention was now on Nick, and the words coming out of his mouth. "Why are you so interested in my friend Neil?"

Nick pursed his lips and looked down at the cards in his hand. "Greg…" he began slowly. "Friends don't pay for friends' hospital bills."

Greg was quiet, and exceptionally uncomfortable. "Does it matter?" he asked suddenly, staring at Nick and waiting for the Texan to look him in the eyes. "Does it really matter that much to you what my relationship with Neil is?"

"Yes," said Nick, finally meeting Greg's eyes. "It does."

Greg's voice grew cold. "I thought you were better than that, Nick."

"Greg, I don't think you understand what I'm trying to—"

"I understand perfectly," said Greg, rising. "You think this kind of thing would matter to Catherine? Riley? Sara? Grissom? But it matters to you. I guess some people just can't overcome the lies they learn in their childhood—"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Nick hissed, suddenly on the defensive as he, too, leapt to his feet. "Greg, I'm only asking because—"

"Nick, just drop it," Greg begged. "Please. You're one of my…" He paused. "You're my best… friend… I don't want to change that. For anything."

Nick suddenly seemed very pale in the harsh florescent lights, and there was some sort of grave injury that marred his eyes, but he simply nodded. "You don't… want to change our friendship," he repeated, quietly.

"Not for anything, Nick," Greg said. "In fact… I really need you sometimes."

Nick was quiet a moment. "Greg, there's something I should tell you…"

"I'd really rather you didn't, Nick," Greg said. He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm going to go talk to Henry and see if I can stealthily figure out when his birthday is."

"That's fine!" Nick called as Greg sped out of the break room as if it were on fire. He fell back down to his chair and looked at the cards, still clutched in his hand. "I guess I'll just play a little solitaire for a while, then…"

"How you feeling today?" Greg asked with a grin as he entered into Neil's room after an uneventful shift.

Neil was lying flat in his bed and turned around to face Greg. "Today's not a good day."

"Night's always darkest before the dawn, right?" Greg said, pulling up a chair.

"Right," Neil agreed. "When do you think I can get out of here?"

"I was thinking I could take you home tonight," Greg said, reaching out and clasping Neil's hand in his.

Neil smiled but his eyes were tired. "Oh babe, you have no idea how much I'd love that."

"I just need to run it by Dr. Norton," said Greg. "But you seem to be improving, and it'll save us some cash."

"I was thinking about that," said Neil, "and I want you to know that I have contacts in high places, because of my job. If I asked for a loan, I could help—"

"How many times do I have to tell you, the money isn't important!" Greg said with a laugh. "You're the one that's important. I'd give anything to keep you here with me."

"And you've proven that," said Neil fondly. "Over and over again."

Greg reached out and stroked Neil's soft hair. "You let me worry about money now. When you're better, if it matters that much to you, then you can argue with me about it, but for now, let's just be happy that you're going to be OK."

There was a knock on the door as it opened and both men looked up to see Dr. Norton. "Mr. Sanders, I heard you were here. I was wondering if I could have a word?"

Greg nodded, and Neil squeezed his hand. "Don't forget to ask," he whispered, and Greg nodded to assure Neil that he would.

Once they were out in the hall, Dr. Norton closed the door quietly then gazed at Greg with a somber expression. "I am afraid that the treatment is no longer working," he said quietly.

Greg felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice over his head as fear trickled down over his body. "It's not… what?"

"This has been known to happen in about ten percent of patients so far," Dr. Norton continued. "Sometimes, the granulomas return, continuing to clog the bloodstream and inflame the vascular walls. You knew the risks involved when we first spoke about this course of treatment. As it's still in its testing phases, there was never any guarantee that it would work at all. What it has done is bought you some more time with Neil."

Greg had nothing left to say. There were no more options left. No more treatments, no transplants, no more money that he could spend to save a life. Neil would slip away and then everything would fall apart and Greg would be alone. He had feared it for so long that he was suddenly numb at the concept. As if none of it mattered at all.

"Mr. Sanders?" Dr. Norton prompted.

"Hm?" Greg said blinking.

"Would you like me to tell Neil?"

Greg's mouth was partly open as he shook his head. "I told him that he was dying before," he whispered. "I can tell him again. Just… give us a minute, would you?"

Like a zombie he made his way back towards Neil's door, an unpleasant sense of déjà vu shaking his bones. He thought of the mood swings, the nausea, the fevers, the nightmares… He thought of Neil wasting away into a skeleton with skin, thought of holding that skeleton and a feeling of disgust washed through him. He knew that in the end Neil would not be the man that he knew. He didn't think he could go through it all again.

"Greg?"

He looked up when Neil called his name and managed a wide smile. "Hey, babe," he said, quietly.

Neil blinked at him. "So can I go home today?"

Greg held his breath a moment, preparing himself to spill the ugly truth. "Yeah…" he said instead, with that same caring smile. "Yeah, babe, you can come home today."

Neil grinned gratefully. "Oh you are fabulous, thank you! I hate hospitals. Can't think of a worse place to die. Or get better, as the case may be."

Greg nodded, smile still in place. "I'm gonna take you home today, Neil, and things will be how they used to."

"Sex and naked races?" Neil chimed cheerily. "Because I found out both those things aren't allowed here. Don't ask me how I know that."

Greg laughed. "Of course. Sex and naked races and first person shooters."

"And pie," said Neil, hungrily. "Can we have pie?"

"Well, obviously!" Greg cried. "Peach, right?"

"Oh you know it…" Neil said, his eyes glazing over. "Sex, pie and video games. Can life get any sweeter?"

Greg pursed his lips when he felt his throat close up. He shook his head and coughed to open up his airways. "No," he confessed. "Nothing has been the same at home without you."

"But now I'm coming back," said Neil. "And things will be good again."

Greg drew closer to the bed, pushing back Neil's hair from his forehead as he leaned down and kissed him, deeply, painfully, quietly. When he pulled back Neil gasped for air.

"You haven't kissed me like that since—"

"I know," Greg interrupted, his hand sliding to rest against Neil's cheek. "Listen, babe… I'm going to just go home and get everything ready for you. Put the pie in the oven, set up the video games—"

"Put on a kinky costume, I get it," said Neil.

"Right," Greg said slowly. "So… you wait here. I'll come back to get you."

Neil looked at him with such trust in his eyes, Greg knew right then that he would burn in Hell. "Of course," he said. And then his smile broadened. "God, Greg… I love you so fuckin' much."

Greg's smile became more difficult to maintain. He tried to return the sentiment. It was the least he could do. But instead, he said, "I'll see you in a bit, OK?"

And then he turned around and ran out of that room and out of that hospital as fast as he could.

The second Greg had escaped that hospital and found the sanctuary of his car, he found that he could not stop shaking. He thought back to the things that he had said to Neil, the lies, the fake smiles and untruths. He hadn't told Neil that the treatments weren't working. He hadn't told Neil that he was still going to die, despite everything that they had done and everything they had hoped for.

He put his car in gear and pulled out of the space, half wondering if he would manage to get himself into an accident. A part of him almost wanted to, but not in a suicidal way. He needed to feel pain. Pain like Neil was feeling, because maybe then he could finally understand, maybe then he wouldn't be so scared, and maybe then he could have been a better boyfriend.

I couldn't even say that I loved him… Greg thought to himself.

He exited the parking lot and drove down the street, tears finally crawling out of the corners of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. For a moment, he didn't know where he was going. But then, he knew what he had to do.

The whole drive, he couldn't get Neil's eyes out of his head. Icy blue and bright and accusing… Because Greg was the biggest traitor since Judas himself, worse than Brutus, worse than Cassius…

"Worse than Benedict Fucking Arnold," Greg growled, tightening his grip on the wheel.

He turned slightly onto his road, his mind now racing ahead, thinking of what he had to do next. He pulled up to the curb outside of his apartment and jogged inside and up the stairs a few floors until he was finally home. He fiddled with the keys in the door and threw it open, dashing inside to his room and pulling out a suitcase.

As he threw random articles of clothing into the open case, he saw the place where Neil's beloved and outdated Nintendo 64 had slept quietly on the dresser beside the TV. There was a patch where no dust dared to tread, and it made Greg think about how long that console had rested there.

He shook his head to clear it and continued to pack, running into his bathroom to collect the appropriate toiletries. He came back and dropped them on top of his clothes. His next stop was the kitchen, seizing some fruit and then some cookies from the cupboard to take with him, especially since he wasn't sure where he was going, and whether or not there would be food. He zipped them up in large plastic bags and shoved them into his suitcase as well. He did a sweep of his bedroom, looking for anything he might have missed, and his eyes fell on the framed photo on his bedside table.

There was a sharp pang in his heart and Greg lifted his hand and traced Neil's vibrant, healthy face. The journalist was in mid-laugh, as Greg had cruelly told a joke right before the camera snapped the photo. The smug look in Greg's eyes and the jubilant expression on Neil's face was too much for the CSI to bear and he put the picture face down on his dresser, seized his suitcase, and made his way back downstairs and out of the apartment. He tossed the suitcase into the trunk of his car before jumping back into the driver's seat and taking off at high speed, allowing his whims to guide him.

He silently prayed that he would end up at the place that was best for him. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he needed the time to think. What would Neil do, when he finally figured out that Greg wasn't coming to take him home? What would he say when Dr. Norton gave him the bad news about the treatments?

Would he ever forgive Greg for this selfish betrayal?

Greg drove and he drove, too panicked to think, until he realized he had no idea where he was anymore. Desert was broken by a handful of gas stations and all-night diners, and then, he came to a motel, the last one on the edge of the Nevada wilderness, and he pulled into the parking lot and checked in.

When he entered his room, he crawled under the covers of the bed and stayed there for a long time.