Author's Note: FFN is messing with my formatting. Crossing my fingers and hoping this goes through. Once again, my love to LaughableBlackStorm for, well, putting up with me.

Chapter 12: Of Truth and Lies

Nick allowed a few days to pass before he finally decided to go to Greg's apartment. His heart rattling madly in his chest, he knocked on the door before shoving both his hands into his pockets and waiting impatiently for someone to open it.

To his surprise, the door opened swiftly and Greg stopped and blinked. "You're not the pizza guy," he said.

"I thought we needed to talk," said Nick.

Greg blanched. "No, I don't want to talk to you."

He tried to close the door, but Nick pushed it open. "Well I really want to talk to you."

Greg hesitated for a moment before stepping aside and allowing Nick to come in, closing the door behind him. Greg's apartment was remarkably clean, a stark contrast from when Nick had visited a month earlier. The curtains were drawn, the dining table was polished, and there were no DVDs littering the coffee table. In fact, there were very little personal touches at all. Nick felt almost as if he was walking into a model home, where everything was perfectly in place, but held absolutely no personality.

"What have you done to your apartment?" Nick asked, walking into the sparkling kitchen.

"I've been cleaning," said Greg simply, following the Texan.

"Well, clearly," said Nick. "You've cleaned it so much it's dead."

"I thought I got all of Neil's things…" Greg muttered. "But then everything I saw reminded me of him. In fact, I need to get rid of my dining table, do you want it? I can give you a good price."

"It's not a bad thing to be reminded of someone you loved," said Nick, turning around to face Greg.

"I told you, I never said—"

"That you loved him?" Nick interrupted. "I know. He told me. You know what else he told me?"

"What?" Greg asked, as if he were afraid of the answer.

"That he forgave you," Nick said.

Greg shook his head, tears suddenly blossoming. "No, you're lying."

"I'm not," said Nick. "In the end, he knew that you loved him. Even if you never said it."

"That's a lie," Greg hissed. "How could he have known?"

"Because he knew you, Greg," said Nick. "I already told you, you didn't have to tell him."

Greg pursed his lips and folded his arms. "Why are you here, Nick? To make me feel worse about myself?"

"No," said Nick quietly. "I came to apologize."

Greg looked flabbergasted. "Apologize? What could you possibly have to apologize to me for?"

"The other night, at my place," Nick explained, feeling the heat in his cheeks. "I didn't react well to the situation at hand—"

"You mean when I tried to rape you?" Greg suggested, cocking his eyebrow. "I don't think it's you who reacted badly."

"Rape me?" Nick gaped. "Greg, isn't that a little strong? I'd hardly call it that."

"I attacked you," Greg said simply, avoiding Nick's eyes. "And when you told me to stop, I wouldn't let you go. That sounds like rape to me."

Nick was startled by the coldness in his voice. "Greg, no…"

"You didn't want it," Greg mumbled. "But I wanted you so badly, and I… I don't want to hurt you, Nicky. So I'm sorry. I'm sorry. But you don't have to be. So maybe it'll be better if you just leave."

Nick took in their surroundings. Another night, another kitchen, another chance to make things right. He took a step forward. "I didn't say stop because I don't want you, Greg," he said.

Greg shook his head. "No, don't try to make me feel better, Nick. I know you think this kind of thing is disgusting, and it's nice of you to pretend that—"

"No, Greg," Nick said. "I led you on. I initiated it—"

"Why would you?" Greg interrupted. "No, you didn't initiate anything, it was my fault, I did it, I know. I've been going through it over and over again in my head and I can't believe that I behaved like that… Because I just wanted to…" He shook his head and took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter what I wanted. Because nothing is worth hurting you, Nick."

"You didn't hurt me," Nick assured him. "In fact, I came here tonight to make sure that I didn't hurt you."

"You're not what's hurting me, Nick…" Greg said quietly, folding his arms.

Nick took a few more steps forward until they were almost touching. Greg turned his head stubbornly away from the Texan. "I want to be here for you, Greg. You know I always am."

"But you don't see me the way I want you to," Greg whispered. "I get that. And thank you, by the way, for not freaking out. About what I did…"

Nick looked down at the ground. "You always see what you want to see, Greg, but for once just look at what's right in front of you. You didn't kiss me the other night—"

"If you want to go that way, fine, we can forget that this ever—"

"No," Nick interrupted harshly. "I mean you didn't kiss me. You kissed Neil."

Greg looked at him and blinked. "I know…" he said. "I know, Nick, and I'm sorry."

"Greg…" Nick began, his heart twisting in his chest. "I… would prefer it that, the next time you kiss me, you do it because… it's me."

Greg leaned his head back against the wall. "There won't be a next time, I promise—Wait… I'm sorry, I thought you said… what did you say?"

Nick reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against Greg's warm, sweaty cheek, and the younger man flinched, but then quickly relaxed. "I told you, you only see what you want to see. It was easier to think that I hated you than the alternative."

Greg's mouth opened partially and he frowned. "Um…" he began. "I don't… I don't think I understand what you mean…"

Nick leaned forward, and Greg closed his eyes expectantly, but Nick's lips only brushed against his forehead before he pulled away. "You think you're alone," Nick began, "but you've never been alone, Greg. Not since I've known you. Not really."

For a moment, Greg said nothing, he just looked at Nick with a peculiar expression. "This is… it's the truth?"

Slowly, Nick nodded, his cheeks reddening. Now was a terrible time for declarations of love.

"How come you never…" Greg frowned, clearly confused. "I mean, I thought that, when you found out about Neil, you thought I was… wrong or something, but now you're saying… You don't think I'm wrong, do you?"

"Only if I'm wrong, too," Nick replied. "I tried to tell you, but you never let me."

"Oh God…" Greg gasped, his hands dragging across his face. "Oh my God…"

Nick looked sharply away. "I know. This is horrible timing—"

"No," said Greg, shaking his head. "It's not. Nick… I didn't want to ask this before, because I thought that you… It doesn't matter, but… well… Would you just… sleep with me?"

Nick backed away. "Greg, you have no idea how many times I've thought about this, and in my dreams I might have said yes, but I don't want to be that guy."

Greg looked strangely hurt. "What? I feel like I'm getting mixed signals here."

"I'm sorry about that," said Nick. "But I know that you don't really want to sleep with me, not now, anyway. You just need a distraction from Neil, and I don't want to be that person, OK? If we ever have sex—"

"Sex?" Greg gaped. "Who said anything about sex? Nick, I just want a warm bed, and a warm body, and sleep."

Nick's face burned. "Oh. Right. Sleep with you… with actual sleeping involved. Of course, that would make the most sense…"

"Would you rather I asked you to just hold me?" Greg suggested, a sarcastic and slightly amused look on his worn and tired face.

Nick laughed to dispel his own humiliation. "No, no, I'm… sorry. I'm acting like—"

"A boy with a crush?" Greg asked. "Been there."

Nick felt his flush deepen. "All right. I think I can do that," he said, before looking up at Greg.

"Thank you," Greg said, with deep gratitude in his eyes.

Nick shifted and then reached out a hand, which Greg gratefully took. Greg led the Texan by the hand to his bedroom down the hall. Greg walked through the door, letting go of the Texan's hand as he pulled off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Nick watched from the doorway, feeling slightly voyeuristic as he saw the muscles in Greg's back move with his arms as he stretched. Greg kicked off his shoes, stripped off his jeans, tossed open the covers, and crawled beneath them. When he was finally in bed, he looked up at Nick expectantly.

"You coming?"

Nick nodded, then approached the bed, taking off only his shoes and laying on top of the covers parallel to Greg who smiled at him.

"Come on," said Greg. "I'm giving you the green light to crawl into bed with me and you have to be the gentleman."

Nick reached out and tucked Greg's hair behind his ear, his hand resting against Greg's cheek. "Just being here is enough for me."

Greg closed his eyes and laughed. "Get off the bed, loser," he said.

Slightly confused, Nick didn't argue, and Greg threw the covers aside.

"Now get in," Greg said.

With a small smile, Nick obeyed and Greg threw the covers over him, then moved closer, tucking his head to his chest as Nick embraced him, Nick's chin resting on top of his head. They laid there for a long time, and Nick wasn't sure if he was supposed to do anything or say anything at all. Greg didn't move or say anything himself, so Nick tried to relax, tried not to think of the fact that his hands were flat against Greg's bare back, or the fact that Greg was nearly naked in bed with him, while he in all his modesty remained fully clothed.

Of course, Nick realized, Greg was the one who was completely exposed and vulnerable, and Nick was the one who still kept up his guard. He closed his eyes.

"You don't smell like him," Greg said suddenly, just when Nick was wondering if he'd fallen asleep.

He tried not to feel awkward. "I'm sorry…"

"No, that's a good thing," said Greg. "This whole place smells like him. It's nice to find something that doesn't. Something that's new." Nick felt Greg take a deep breath and exhale through his nose. "New is… it's good…"

Nick manffaged a small smile. "Are you going to be OK?"

"In a while," Greg replied. "I think. Maybe. These kind of things get better with time… don't they?"

He was looking for reassurance, but Nick immediately thought of Warrick and closed his eyes. "Yeah, it does."

"At least… when I dream about him now… you'll be here." Greg pulled away slightly and looked up so he could see Nick's eyes. "You will… be here, won't you?"

Nick nodded. "You dream about him often."

"No… only, maybe, well… every night…"

Nick kissed the top of Greg's head. "It hurts right now. The wounds are raw and burning, but in a while, you'll find comfort in those dreams."

"I don't know what he'd say…" Greg began, "if he knew I ran to another man's arms so quickly. If he knew that I tried to jump your bones."

Nick couldn't suppress a laugh. "You miss him."

There was a sharp intake of breath and Greg shook just a little. His voice cracked when he spoke. "Yeah."

Nick stroked Greg's hair. "He'd understand that. He missed you, too, when you were gone."

"Did he try to jump your bones?" Greg asked.

Nick rolled his eyes. "No," he said. "But he flirted with me."

Greg snorted. "Of course he did. Bastard's a tease, always was."

Nick smiled. "A little, maybe. But he would never betray you for anything, Greg."

Greg was quiet for a moment, and Nick wondered if he'd said something wrong. "You're right. He wouldn't."

Nick could hear the regret in his voice and sighed. "I shouldn't have said—"

"But it's true. Neil was nothing if not loyal."

"You were both loyal."

"Is that what you call abandoning the man you love?" Greg asked.

The smile returned to Nick's lips. "You just said you loved him."

"Too little, too late."

"It's never too late."

"It is," Greg insisted. "He can't hear me anymore, his ghost isn't lingering here, waiting for me to say those words, no… No." He was angry all of a sudden, and pulled away from Nick, rolling onto his other side, his back to the man he had so vulnerably invited into his bed. "He was right. This is all there is. No Heaven or Hell or ghosts or souls, just… death."

Nick moved closer to Greg, sitting up on his elbow as his hand carefully slid over Greg's bicep, his lips quietly brushing against his shoulder. "I don't believe that," he said.

Greg closed his eyes. "I love you."

"Feel better?" Nick asked.

Greg didn't say anything.

"Saying it out loud helps. How do you know he can't hear you?"

"I wasn't talking to Neil," Greg whispered.

Nick's breath caught in his throat. He withdrew his hand from Greg's bicep. "Greg…"

"And now I've gone and scared you off again." With a frustrated growl, Greg threw off the covers and tossed his legs over the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and raking his hands back through his hair. "My God, what is wrong with me?"

Nick followed Greg's lead and sat up, pulling his knees under him and making his way over to the young man on the edge of the bed. His hands gripped Greg's shoulders and he began to knead them methodically, like bread dough, working outwards from the neck and then back in again.

Meanwhile, Greg continued to talk. "I can't say it when it counts, and when I finally do say it, it's not the right time. I can't do relationships, I never could. Never had a relationship that lasted longer than six months, not with guys, girls, anyone, and then I met Neil and everything was just so… crazy, I didn't understand it, I didn't have time to understand it, and then he was gone, and I'm just scared that if I take too much time to figure it out again, then you'll be gone too, and then no one will ever know that I'm even capable of… Oh God that feels good."

Nick smirked as he moved down Greg's upper back. "You looked like you needed it."

"Mm…" Greg intoned, letting his head fall forward. "Damn, Nick, where did you learn to do this?"

"My sister taught me. She works in… alternative medicine."

"This the one up in Seattle?" Greg asked. "Abigail?"

"That's right," Nick said, impressed. "I'm surprised you remember."

"I remember everything you say," Greg mumbled, finally sounding more relaxed. "Except the boring stuff."

Nick leaned back. "Lie down," he instructed.

With a sigh, Greg acquiesced and swung his legs back up onto the bed before laying flat on his stomach. Nick traced the muscles in Greg's toned but pale back with his fingertips. He ran his forefinger down the prominent spine, making note of every scar and every mole and every mark. His hands began to work on a knot below Greg's left shoulder blade. He tried to remember what his sister had told him about pressure points and tension. He tried to recall the lecture she gave about stress, where the body stored it and why, and the best way to release it. At the time, he'd dismissed her ramblings as those of an average flower child acupuncturist, but now he wished he'd paid more attention. He wondered if any of her New Age techniques would be helpful to Greg at all. He wished he had at least something in his empty toolbox that he could use to help his frightened friend. But for now, all he had were his bare hands, so he tried to put them to good use.

Well, he had more than just his hands. "I love you, too."

Greg said nothing in response. He just lay still beneath Nick's hands as if he were dead. And then, Nick made note of the way his back rose and fell in a deep, steady rhythm. Nick closed his eyes and shook his head at himself and his stupidity. It was probably better that Greg hadn't heard him.

Nick moved off the bed and gently drew the covers over Greg's sleeping form, before exiting the room and finding a nice, comfortable place to sleep on the couch.

"I love you," he said, methodically rolling his knuckles deep into Greg's back.

"I love to hear you say that," Greg replied with a contented smile.

"I know you do," said the masseur. "You were always self-absorbed like that. But that's why I loved you."

Greg frowned at the use of the past tense. "What's the matter with you?" he asked. "You're not sounding like yourself."

The hands kneading his back grew stronger, the fingers biting deeper, and the massage became almost painful. "You'll excuse me if I'm a little bitter. A man often is when he's left to die alone."

"You didn't die…" Greg began slowly.

"Oh, that's right," his angry lover said, with a mocking laugh. "You don't believe in death. Only the end of life."

The fingers dug into his skin like a cat's claws and Greg turned, throwing the man off of him and back onto the bed.

The corpse of Neil Cooper lay beside him. He was a skeleton with flesh stretched tightly over his bony frame, and no eyes in his sockets only large, black gaping holes which somehow still managed to bore into Greg's skull like electric drills.

"Death leaves a dark stench in my ears," said Greg flatly. "There's such a putrid finality to it, it makes me want to claw my eyes out."

"You should try it sometime," said Neil with a toothy grin that spread to the holes in his head that passed for ears. "It's so much easier to see the truth without them."

"And what is the truth?" Greg asked. "That I loved, and my love was worth nothing? Or that you fell, and your fall ended in carnage?"

Neil inhaled deeply through his nose. "Ah, sweet carnage. Nothing like the smell of acid sprinkled over fresh wounds to make you feel more dead than alive. So this is it then? You slaughter me with apathy then desperately begin poisoning a new victim not days before you lay me beneath the dirt? What kind of murderer are you?"

"A lonely one," Greg returned. "It's not my fault that I kill and tell. I never was one for secrets."

A bony hand shot out and gripped Greg's neck, icy radiating from the fingertips. "If you kill him, I swear to Satan that I will never let you go," Neil threatened. "I die for only you and you should kill only for me, lest our roles be reversed, and it is you who they bury tomorrow under the earth, with the worms and the maggots and the bottom feeders that feed off of you. Even the grubs deserve better nourishment than your sorry sack of shit."

"Let me go," Greg managed to articulate clearly, despite the fact that he couldn't breathe. "Or I swear to God, I will kill you."

"Don't you get it?" Neil asked, with that twisted, toothy, eyeless grin. "That's exactly what I want, Greg. I want you to kill me. Kill me, and only me, forever and ever, over and over and over again until you are drenched in my blood, until you can never get that smell out of your ears, until the sunset never tastes of anything but flesh, until you want to claw your eyes out in order to see—"

Greg woke up, gasping for air as if he had just barely escaped drowning. His bedroom was dark, and he was shaking in sheets saturated in cold sweat, and he turned to see if the skeletal demon that haunted his nightmares was still there.

He wasn't.

In fact, nobody was there at all.

He didn't know how he should feel about that.