Author's Note: Sorry about the severe lack of updates on Monday. I was stuck with this story, so I postponed updating a bit, but now I know the direction in which I want to take it, so here's Wednesday's update as promised. I did try and ease the pain by posting a rather smutty horror/comedy story ("In the Maize"), so I hope that provided SOME entertainment in the update drought. Also, for those of you who thought you'd seen the last of Neil, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Chapter Nine: In Honor of the Promises We Make
One Week Earlier…
Nick had taken to stopping by the hospital every day after shift to check on Neil. He had managed to pacify an anxious Catherine by explaining away Greg's absence. Unfortunately, Neil was not that easily convinced.
"You don't have to come here, you know," Neil said, cocking his head to the side as his go-kart rounded a corner. "This isn't your problem."
"If I didn't come, who would you race with?" Nick returned with a half smile as he pulled level with Neil and subsequently passed him.
Only to be hit with a green shell half a second later.
"Ah! You bastard," Nick muttered.
"Bowser never wins," said Neil seriously. "Should have chosen another character, my friend."
"You're a mushroom, how can you drive anyway?" Nick asked as he recovered from the green shell incident.
"Greg was a dinosaur," Neil returned. "Aren't they supposed to be extinct?"
Nick laughed as he tried to regain third place. And then, there was a natural lull in the conversation, which Nick blamed on the mention of Greg. "I'm really sorry he isn't here with you, Neil."
The blond man shrugged. "No point in wishing, is there? Things are how they are." He smiled. "Beat you. First place again."
"And there I come in third," said Nick as he passed the finish line.
Neil leaned back in his bed and smiled, turning to look at Nick. "Honestly, this is too much. You don't have to come here every day. We aren't friends or anything."
"Why can't we be friends?" Nick asked, innocently.
"Because I'm dying," Neil replied. "I won't be here next year."
"And that means you can't have friends?" Nick asked with a laugh.
Neil shrugged sheepishly and looked away. "I'd rather just go quietly, you know? Not make any waves or leave any damage behind. Just slip away and the world keeps spinning. I make friends, I can't do that."
Nick tried to keep his smile. "And Greg. You think you haven't made any waves with him?"
"He's not here, is he?" Neil said. "Can't have made that much of an impression…"
"Neil, I've got to tell you something," Nick began, slowly. "I… listened to that voicemail you left on Greg's phone. You told him that you didn't blame him—"
"I didn't want him to feel—"
"Exactly," Nick interjected. "You didn't want him to feel guilty. Why would he feel guilty if he didn't care?"
Neil closed his eyes before shaking his head and shrugging. "I don't know. I don't know how he feels, I never do. Man's like a rock. Or like… those guards at Buckingham Palace with those crazy hats. You know they'd be a riot at the pub after shift, but they don't say a word to you."
Nick's eyes fell to the floor, his mind flashing back to Greg's break down in the car several weeks before. "He feels a lot. Just doesn't like to let it show, is all."
"He's good with happy," Neil noted, nodding as he remembered. "Always was good at that. If there's anyone you can count on to cheer you up, it's Greg Sanders."
"Been there," said Nick with a small smile.
"Panic, he could never hide that," Neil said, shaking his head. "Too much going on to even try. Like when your friend, Sara, was missing."
Nick frowned. "You were dating when that happened?"
Neil nodded. "Oh yes, I've heard volumes about Miss Sara Sidle. Almost as much as I've heard about you, Mr. Stokes. And you, you didn't know anything about me, did you? What's that say about the way Greg felt about me?"
"He wasn't ashamed of you," said Nick, looking Neil straight in the eyes to make his point.
Neil shook his head. "I know he wasn't out at work, and I get that. But he didn't even mention me as a friend, did he?"
Nick had run out of things to say. "I think, Neil, all that should matter is that you loved him."
Neil pursed his lips and nodded as his eyes glistened. "Yeah. You would think that. I try to tell myself that." He turned his head to look out the window at the gray sky. "I do have to give him credit, though. Without him, I would have dealt with this completely on my own. I haven't had a real friend in years, not with the job I have. It must have been hard to stay with me, after he first heard. I guess he stayed as long as he could." When he turned back to Nick, he was smiling again. "You're not here for me, are you?"
"What?" Nick was confused. "Of course I am. No one should go through this alone."
"OK," Neil conceded. "You may be here a little bit for me. But mostly, it's for him, isn't it?"
Nick watched him a moment, those curious raised eyebrows, that knowing smile, and those sharp blue eyes. "Greg's been a very good friend of mine for many years. I think he'd want someone to be here for you when he can't be."
Neil shook his head. "Give me a little credit, Nick. I may be dying, but I'm not stupid."
"I don't know what you're trying to say…" Nick said carefully.
"It's OK, you know," said Neil, with a half shrug. "When I'm gone, it's actually nice to know that there'll be someone looking out for Greg. You may be here with me for him right now, but when I'm gone, Nick, you have to promise me that you'll be there, with him, for me."
Nick watched him. "You have to promise me something, too."
Neil feigned personal injury as he grasped at his chest. "You're really asking a favor of a dying man? Have you no shame?"
"You have to find a way to forgive him," said Nick. "You'll feel better when you do."
Neil's smile faded. "Can you love someone, and I mean really love someone… and still be incapable of forgiving him?"
"I don't know," said Nick, honestly.
Neil sighed. "I do," he said, quietly, looking out the window. "I do."
As Nick approached Neil's room the morning after his shift, he saw Dr. Norton standing outside the door and speaking with someone in surgical scrubs. The surgeon nodded, then spun around and made her way back down the hall.
"Good morning, Dr. Norton," Nick greeted.
"Mr. Stokes, I was hoping you would be here," he said.
"Eight o'clock on the dot, right when visiting hours start," Nick said with a grin. "Am I ever late?"
"No, and that's why I didn't call you right away," said Dr. Norton. "Neil has suffered another heart attack. We just sent him up to surgery, but this one doesn't look good."
"Surgery?" Nick blinked. "Oh, man…"
"He may be in there for a while," said Dr. Norton. "Why don't you go and have a cup of coffee and I'll page you when we have any news."
"Actually, I'd rather stay here," said Nick. He gestured at the room. "Um, would you mind if I just waited in there for a while?"
"No, go right ahead," said Dr. Norton, looking at his watch. "Now if you excuse me, I have other patients…"
He walked away and Nick entered the hospital room. The sheets to Neil's bed were thrown to the side. The television was off, but Nick noticed that the light on the Nintendo 64 was still on so he switched on the TV and saw that Neil's character had run into the wall, his go-kart stalled. Every other racer had finished the race already.
Nick turned off the TV and moved back towards the bed, his foot stepping on something that rubbed against the linoleum. Nick paused and lifted his foot off of a piece of paper, which he lifted up and unfolded.
It was a drawing of a winking dog with its tongue hanging out and its tail straight in the air. It wore a collar around its neck with two name tags. A different name was etched on each of them, specifically 'Stoker' and 'Kipling.' In the top left hand corner, in the messy scrawl that was usually reserved for English teachers and doctors, someone had written, 'To Our Master.' In the bottom right corner was the message, 'Name him what you want, but love him with everything you have. Your mistress, Neil.'
Nick's brows furrowed as he refolded the paper and put it in his jacket. With a sigh he sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room, ringing out his hands. His eyes kept being drawn towards the red light on the game console. He saw the controller forgotten by the bed and picked it up, walking to the television and turning it on.
Neil's character, Toad, was still facing the wall, the go-kart still stalled, and the happy music of the game still playing. Nick felt that if everyone else had already finished the race, than Neil deserved to finish as well. He lifted the controller, put Toad's car in reverse, and drove to the finish line, which wasn't far as Neil had been on his third lap before he'd stopped playing.
Even though Toad had finished last, Nick realized that the circuit wasn't entirely over. He continued to race, using the mushroom-headed character, through every single course in the game, and then did it all over again. It was strange how driving the same courses over and over didn't bore him, even as the hours past, because his mind wasn't really focused on the game at all.
And then, the door to his room opened and Nick was inches from the finish line on his third lap on the last course of the game, but he paused anyway, looking up instantly.
Dr. Norton stood there, and he was not smiling. Nick got to his feet. "Is he…?"
Dr. Norton shook his head. "His heart failed," he said quietly. "There was nothing we could do."
Nick was actually surprised at the force that struck him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He couldn't have known Neil more than a week and a half and yet it was as if he had lost something very important that he would never find again.
"I see…" he said, when he could breathe again. "Well… I'll gather his things."
"If you could contact Mr. Sanders—"
"I can't," Nick interrupted, coldly. "I don't know where he is. No one does."
Dr. Norton nodded. "Sometimes, these things can be too much for a person."
"Yeah," said Nick, fighting back tears he didn't think he'd shed. "Tell me about it."
He went to the table upon which rested the Nintendo and the television, and, after a brief pause, switched off and unplugged the console.
Present.
Nick's eyes kept glancing at Greg across the hall, who was looking over Archie's shoulder at something pertaining to the case he was working with Riley. Greg had been right; everyone was glad to see him back, and no one saw a change in him. He seemed to have recovered from Neil's death far too quickly. Nick had only known him for just over a week, and he was still having difficulty dealing with it, though he couldn't let that show in front of Greg.
"Nick, are you OK?" Langston said, his deep voice drawing Nick back into the room they were in.
"Oh, yeah. Um… what were we talking about again?"
"The broken window," Langston reminded him. "There was glass outside, but not inside."
"Oh, right," said Nick.
"You seem a little distracted," said Langston. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing, just… a friend… acquaintance, I should say, kind of… well, he died yesterday and it's just been on my mind, lately, that's all."
Langston frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry for your loss…" His brow furrowed and he shook his head. "I never get used to saying that. But I really am. Sorry."
"Mm, yeah…" Nick muttered.
"Was it… sudden?" Langston asked, tentatively.
"Huh?" Nick blinked. "Oh, yeah. No. It wasn't sudden. We kind of saw this coming for a while now. He was sick, but it's still hard."
"What did he have?" Langston asked. "Out of… medical morbid curiosity."
"Something called Vilmer's Disease?" Nick said with a shrug. "I'd never heard of it."
"I have," said Langston. "Treated a case several years back. Hard to diagnose. It's so rare, many doctors forget about it until nothing else makes sense. The… granulomas that cause it, they're the key to diagnosis. But sometimes they're so small—"
"Yeah," Nick interrupted. "Right. Well, we should probably focus on the case." He pulled one of the crime scene photos towards him and looked at the shattered glass on the ground.
Langston paused. "Quite the coincidence that the day after your friend dies, Greg shows up again," he said, looking across the hall into the AV lab, where Greg was now laughing at a joke Archie had apparently made.
"Yeah, really," Nick mumbled.
The day dragged on, and every chance he could get, Nick would look Greg's way, but the younger man never looked back. A handful of times, Nick thought of voicing his concerns to Catherine, explaining what had happened in the week and a half Greg was gone, and ask her advice. But he decided that she didn't need to worry about Greg anymore than she already had.
When shift was over, Nick was in the locker room, putting away a few things when Greg appeared in the doorway. "OK," said the younger man. "I'm ready to go when you are."
"Would you like to get your car?" Nick asked. "You have some things there, I'm assuming."
"No," said Greg. "I'm not going to be staying with you past tonight. I can get everything tomorrow."
Nick watched him for a long time before he said, "OK."
The drive back to Nick's place was uneventful. Greg had insisted on turning on the radio and turning up the volume, successfully making conversation impossible while he rocked out to music that Nick thought had died in the 1990s.
They went through the motions. When they got out of the car, Nick asked how Greg's day went, and the younger man had exuberantly told him that everything had been fantastic. Nick put the key in the lock and opened the door, and Greg walked right in, followed by the perplexed Texan.
"Well, good night," Greg said, already on his way down the hall. "Or maybe… is it good morning? Ah, I never could get that right. Sweet dreams, at any rate." He winked at Nick and smiled before disappearing behind the guestroom door.
His head hanging low, his breath caught in his chest, Nick approached the closed door and put his ear against it, listening. He didn't hear a sound. Giving up, he leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, his arms around one bent leg as the other lazily stuck out into the hallway. He waited and he waited to hear something, anything, that would tell him that Greg needed him, that Greg was allowing himself to calm down, but he heard nothing.
He continued to wait by the door, even as his eyelids grew heavy, and darkness encroached upon his vision. He closed them for a minute.
And then, the door creaked and Nick was immediately awake. The hallway was much brighter than it had been a moment ago, before he had closed his eyes. He looked up and saw Greg looking down at him, a rather amused expression on his face.
"Camping out, partner?"
"I, um…" Nick was suddenly embarrassed as he got to his feet and stretched. "Er… fell?"
Greg snorted. "Right. I'm just going to get some water. Is that OK with you?"
"Sure," said Nick with a yawn.
"OK," Greg said brightly, making his way to the kitchen.
Nick followed him there and took a seat at the table as Greg filled a glass at the sink. "You're not taking this well at all."
"I think I'm doing very well," said Greg with a smile as he turned around.
"Greg, can I tell you something?" Nick asked. "Something personal?"
He could tell by the look in Greg's eyes that the younger man wanted to say no, but instead he shrugged. "Sure. Go for it."
"After you… left…" Nick began slowly. "I went to your place to look for you. I found your phone. Heard your voicemails. Three of them were from Neil."
"Boy did like to chat a lot," Greg said.
"Stop it, Greg," Nick said sharply, unable to deal with that anymore. "Stop making jokes like that."
Greg's smile faded. He took a long sip from his water to disguise this fact. "OK, so what? You heard my voicemails."
"Yeah," Nick said. "Greg, why do you think I was at the hospital when Neil died? Do you think I go there every day? I mean, in general? Because… I have been going there every day recently. Since you left, I sat there every day, playing video games and shooting the breeze with your boyfriend. We talked about a lot of things. We talked about you a lot. We also talked about video games and Shakespeare and the places he'd been. It's amazing the things you can learn from a dying man, Greg. He gave me more than I could ever—"
"No," Greg interrupted, his voice holding an undeniable quaver now as he gripped his glass tighter. "No, shut up. You don't talk about him that way. You didn't know him."
"But that's what I'm saying, Greg," said Nick slowly. "I really did. I knew him… incredibly well, considering the brief time I had with him. I can only imagine how well you knew him, in the two years you spent together."
Greg's smile was completely gone at this point as he shot daggers at Nick, breathing strongly through his nose. "Don't accuse me," he spat, defensively.
Nick was taken aback. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Greg, I just—"
"It's not my fault," Greg snapped. "I had no control over… anything. It wouldn't stop. We tried, we fought, I threw every dollar I had away, trying to fight it, but it didn't help." He gritted his teeth and looked sharply away. "What happened wasn't my fault."
Nick frowned. "I know that, Greg."
"No, you don't!" Greg cried, furiously. "You say you do, you say that you knew him, you spent one week with him. Maybe two. And now you're like his fucking brother? We went through this for three months before you showed up. Longer than that. He'd been having problems since August, for fuck's sake. Don't tell me that you knew him." He slammed his palm against his chest, loudly. "I knew him. I knew him and I… I left him." He frowned, as if he couldn't understand that. "I left him and I don't…" He clapped his hand against his mouth and shook his head. "I'm tired. It's late. I just want to go back to sleep."
"No," said Nick, standing up and blocking his exit. "Greg, I know this is painful, but you need to go through this. You can't pretend like it's not there. It won't go away unless you get it out."
He looked at Nick, his eyes wide and desperate. "Please… please, Nicky, don't make me."
It took all of Nick's strength to remain standing in his way. "I'm trying to help you, Greg."
"But I did it," Greg said. "I did it, I left him, and he was alone…" Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, and he wiped at them furiously. "And all because I couldn't deal with it. I could not watch him die like that, not the man that I had spent two years… two… years…" He brought his hands up to his face and bowed his head. "Who does that?" he said into his hands, his voice barely distinguishable.
Nick remained stoic as he approached him. "You've been strong for so long, Greg," he said, "that I think you've forgotten what it's like to have someone take care of you."
When Greg looked up, his eyes were red, but he wiped the tears away again. "Is that an offer?" he asked, trying to smile.
Nick had to laugh. "Yeah. I made a promise."
Greg shook his head. "I can't… I'm just so… pissed off at myself. At him. At the doctors who couldn't figure it out. At the insurance who wouldn't cover him. But mostly, at myself, for leaving him there like that… I thought I could make it right. I thought, if I came back, he would smile, and realize that I hadn't abandoned him. But he never knew that I came back. He never knew, and it's my own fucking fault." He took a deep breath and raked a shuddering hand through his hair. "Fuck!" He cursed loudly, not caring who heard him, emphasizing every single letter in the word as he stared at the ceiling, the concussive sound of the 'k' still lingering in the air between them.
Nick took a step forward, but Greg held up a hand, his eyes on the floor.
"No… no, don't come any closer," he warned. "I might have to hurt you."
Nick stopped, and nodded. "I think I can take you somewhere that can help," he suggested.
Greg looked up at him, and behind everything else Nick could see curiosity in his eyes. "Oh yeah?"
Nick smiled. "Get your coat."