Author's Note: Again, I'll have to cancel the update on Wednesday. Expect the next installment on Friday, though. Apologies for the quote. It's what happens when iTunes is on while I'm writing.

Chapter Fifteen: With the Sharks

Your star is due for shooting and I'll be watching the night sky,
In hopes by then what binds us has come untied.
-- Anthony Rapp

Much to Greg's relief, the entire next day went off without a hitch. Nothing out of the ordinary or particularly tragic occurred that day, if one discounted the smothered little girl. But that sort of thing was far beyond Greg's control, and it definitely hadn't been the danger the dream had been warning him about.

Regardless, Greg was on edge for the rest of the day. Every time someone spoke unexpectedly, it made him jump. And Nick's query was no exception.

"You OK?"

Greg jolted, his coffee spilling over the edge of his mug. He turned to face Nick who had a half-smile on his face, but his eyes were narrowed. "Dammit, don't do that!"

"I think you've had a little too much caffeine," Nick suggested, taking the mug from Greg's hands. "You've been like this all day."

"Just a little jumpy is all," Greg explained. "Bad dream."

Nick's smile faded altogether. "Oh, right."

"No, not that kind of dream!" Greg snapped, annoyed that Nick thought he knew everything about Greg's mental health. "It wasn't about Neil."

"Really?" Nick seemed impressed, and his smile gradually returned to his features. "That's the first time you've said his name in a while. Without stuttering, at least."

Greg sighed. "Shut up. And give me back my coffee!"

Instead of agreeing, Nick simply took a sip from the mug himself. "So what was your dream about?"

Greg realized he had lied when he'd said it hadn't been about Neil. "Er… Nothing. Never mind. That's my coffee you're drinking, you know."

"I was under the impression that you'd lost your taste for coffee," said Nick, taking another sip. "Every time I offered it to you—"

"You used coffee as a cure-all, which it isn't. Now can I have mine back?"

"If I used it as a cure-all, what are you using it for?"

Greg scowled as Nick smirked and took another sip out of Greg's mug. "Fine. Keep the coffee. I have work to do. A little girl was killed today, you know." He knew that would wipe that smug smile right off Nick's face.

And it did. Nick swallowed and lowered the mug. "Yeah, Riley told me. How's that coming?"

"We have a handful of leads we could pursue," Greg told him. "How's your case with Catherine coming?"

"Well," Nick replied. "We arrested someone today."

"Good for you," Greg said, then shifted uncomfortably. He was beginning to notice that all of his conversations with Nick had grown substantially more awkward ever since Greg had kicked the older man out of his apartment. He chewed on his lip and rocked back and forth on his feet. "Well, I should go see Riley about that case…"

He turned to leave and Nick caught his arm. "Greg, we should talk."

"I thought you knew everything about me already," Greg returned coldly.

Nick's face fell. "How could I? You never tell me anything anymore. Not since that night when you snuck off to read Neil's column."

Greg nodded. "OK. Well, what do you want me to say, Nick?"

"I know you have issues with the bad feelings," Nick went on. "Neil noticed it too. When everything is great, you're cheerful and goofy, but when things get bad you become… reserved and dismissive. Do you regret that I left? Do you want me to come back?"

Greg stared at him a moment and blinked a few times. "Do you really want to know what I want, Nick?" he asked, moving closer. "I mean do you really want to know?"

Nick took a step backwards, but nodded confidently even as Greg approached. "It'll help me know what to do when it comes to you, because right now I'm completely lost." He stopped as he hit the wall, and Greg's arm shot out beside his head but Nick didn't even flinch.

Greg smiled. "I want… what I can't have, Nick. I always have. So I'm dealing with it."

A gray hue overtook Nick's features. "You want Neil."

Greg sighed and shook his head. He almost laughed. "No, Nick. Not this time." He withdrew his hand and turned to walk out of the room. He felt Nick's eyes like needles in his back.

"Then why can't you have what you want?" Nick called after him.

Greg paused in the doorway, his hand flying to the frame. "Because it still isn't fair," he replied. "Not yet. Give it time."

And then, he disappeared out the door.

Greg found himself struggling in the obsidian water again, searching for the shore, swimming to the shadow with the flares. And as he swam, he heard a voice chattering in his head that he couldn't ignore.

No one can get close to you without the risk of freezing.

Greg closed his eyes and continued in his pursuit of the shoreline, hands flailing in a windmill motion, in and out of the choppy water which splashed around him.

You let me see parts of you that you'd never revealed to anyone before, but still, you hid other things. I saw through them anyway. And that's why you were so scared.

Greg gave a strong kick, hoping the splashing might silence the echoes in his head. He gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply before plunging his face into the murky black again.

You still take me to bed. Confess everything, cut yourself open and leave yourself raw and vulnerable, your heart ripe for the picking, but it's not mine to take. Not anymore.

Greg stopped swimming to catch his breath and stared at the shore, squinting. It didn't seem any closer than it was when he'd first started, but the figure was still waving at him. He tried to decide if it was a masculine or feminine shape, but it was still too far away to tell. In the waves, he thought someone might be yelling, but he couldn't hear who it was.

What good is a beating heart to a ghost, at any rate?

Greg started swimming again, hand over hand, legs kicking mechanically, though it seemed to be getting harder and harder. Tears streaked his face, but they were washed away so quickly that Greg didn't even notice. He continued to swim.

Swim faster, or you'll miss the show.

There was a strange, sucking sound, and then the echoing in his head evaporated and the splashing of the water around him increased tenfold. It was still raining, and the rain agitated the choppy waves, which splashed over him, threatening to claim him. He swam faster, always swimming faster, trying to see the person, finally making out a shape, drawing closer to the docks to see a heap of something at the shadow's feet that Greg couldn't distinguish. He kept swimming, drawing closer and closer, until—

A grating buzzing interrupted the sound of the waves and Greg opened his eyes and cursed loudly as he turned to his alarm clock which was blinking at him and singing like a chorus of crickets. Greg slammed his hand on top of it and growled, closing his eyes and trying to find the dream again, but it was too far away from him now. It had floated on, out into the ether, even though Greg knew there was something important on that dock, something necessary for him to see, and now, it was all gone.

Grumbling, he went in to work.

Greg sat in the locker room and shuffled through his mail. Junk mail, junk mail, letter from Mom—Greg suspected that it would probably wiser to read that at home—junk mail, utilities bill, second utilities bill—That's right, Greg thought, I'm late on that check, dammit.—junk mail, rent check reminder, loan reminder—

Shit.

Greg had been trickling money into the bank, the minimum payment, just to keep them off his back, as funds were still tight. Everything he got from the estate sale had completely covered the funeral, with a little left over to send off to the bank, but he still had a lot to pay off. And the thousand dollars Neil had received for his column was just pennies in that massive piggy bank.

Greg knew he should have felt guilty that he had spent Neil's last paycheck on his debts, rather than splurging on himself, but he really couldn't afford that at the moment. It would have been fiscally irresponsible. He promised himself that the moment he paid off all his debts, he would buy something with a thousand dollars in Neil's name. Maybe he'd start a scholarship fund for journalists. Greg smiled at the thought. Then he saw the second utilities bill and his mood darkened.

He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. It was almost April. Rent was due, he had two utilities bills to pay, and another loan payment coming up. He remembered his salary and tried to calculate how much that left over for food and luxuries.

He sighed as he realized that he'd be living off Ramen for the next month. And he would probably have to sacrifice his Blue Hawaiian. But none of that mattered, really. After April, things should smooth out, Greg assured himself. It's only because I'd used the money for utilities to meet the loan payment at the beginning of March. But by May, things should be a little less rocky. At least, that's what Greg hoped.

He heard someone enter and looked up, simultaneously getting to his feet and shoving all his mail into his locker.

"Hey there, hot shot." Riley greeted him with a smile.

Greg returned it with a nod. "How's it going?"

"Things are pretty good," Riley returned. "Are we still on for that… thing today?"

For a moment, Greg wondered if he had made plans with Riley and had forgotten about them. "Thing?"

She moved her eyebrows up and down twice. "Yeah, you know… that thing?" She leaned in closer. "That birthday thing?"

"It's your birthday?!" Greg cried.

"What?" Riley laughed. "No! And hush, Henry might hear you."

And then, Greg suddenly remembered. "Oh, right. Birthday surprise. Great."

She nodded at the door. "Follow me. I have Archie on distraction detail. The rest of us are setting up in the lounge."

Greg followed her out, kicking himself for forgetting the surprise birthday party that he himself had suggested several weeks ago. His mind was elsewhere. On Nick, on money, on Neil, on those crazy dreams… There hadn't been space enough in his head to fit even the tiniest reminder about Henry's birthday.

Following Riley into the lounge, he flashed back to December, when Nick had led him here for the impromptu Christmas party and wondered if Archie would bring Henry here in a similar fashion. To be honest, Greg wasn't looking forward very much to jumping out and yelling 'Surprise!' but he did want to do something special for Henry.

He caught Nick's eye as the Texan set some Styrofoam cups next to the coffeemaker, but then quickly looked away. As the days passed, he and Nick had seemed to grow more and more distant, and Greg knew that it was entirely his doing. He had alienated Nick by pushing him away, because he had felt himself falling too fast, and every night Neil would scold him in his dreams for it.

And then, it occurred to him. Lately, Neil hadn't been warning him against falling in love with Nick. Greg's more recent dreams included Neil in a far less threatening capacity. He had the sinking feeling that Neil kept trying to tell him something, but was unable to do so, or didn't know how. His nose twitched as he considered his strange dreams again, feeling that something dark lay just beyond the horizon, only he couldn't see what it was.

"Places!" Riley whispered with the tiniest giggle next to him.

The lights went out, but Greg didn't move until someone tugged on his hand, pulling him behind the couch. He snapped out of his trance to see Nick staring right at him.

"How are you doing?" Nick whispered urgently, as if the answer were a matter of life and death.

"Quiet, Henry'll hear you," Greg returned, avoiding the question.

"You look pale," Nick uttered. "And you have bags under your eyes, which are bloodshot like a hound dog's. You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

Greg glared at him. "I sleep fine, thanks."

"Greg, you can still talk to me," Nick insisted. "Even if you don't want—"

"Now's not the time to talk about this," Greg cut him off. "I'll deal with it later, OK? I told you, just give me a little space. I know you miss me, but I—"

"SURPRISE!"

The lights turned on and Greg looked up, realizing that he and Nick had both missed their cue. Both of them leapt up from behind the couch and managed an awkward shrug.

Henry was flabbergasted. His eyes were double their normal size and a wide smile was spread across his features. He looked like a kid who had just opened the present he'd been wanting all year on Christmas morning.

"What—you guys did this for me?"

Greg realized he sounded far more grateful than Greg had sounded at Christmas.

"It was Greg's idea," said Riley with a proud smile.

Henry's attention turned to Greg and his cheeks grew a shade redder. "Really?"

Greg shrugged, uncomfortably. "Well, I heard today was your birthday, and you're a guy who deserves a big celebration." Greg thought that sounded too impersonal. How could he make it better? "I mean, you do a lot around here, Henry, and I just wanted you to know…" He took Henry's hand with both of his and shook it vehemently. "It doesn't go unnoticed. Really, it doesn't."

The smile faded from Henry's face. He leaned forward until his lips were next to Greg's ear. "This is because I gave you the money, isn't it?" he whispered nervously. "That's the only reason you're doing this."

"No!" Greg protested, though inside, he felt his stomach flip with guilt. "No, Henry, that's not why. It's because…" He swallowed. If it hadn't been a small gesture to thank Henry for the large sum of money he had donated to Neil's cause, then why had Greg planned the party?

His hesitation was all Henry needed, and the lab tech gave a half shrug. "Oh, that's OK. I understand. And I'm glad you found a way to feel better about it. I know you didn't want to take it, and you've been acting so funny around me since I gave it to you that I hope you don't anymore."

"I won't," Greg assured him. "I mean, I wasn't even aware that I was. I mean…" He tried to think back on when he had last spoken to or been around Henry, but every time he dealt with the lab techs these days the memories just faded away, as if they were unmemorable, and Henry was the least significant of the bunch. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely before opening his eyes.

But Henry was grinning again. "No, this is great! Really! Best birthday ever. My parents never had time. I generally spent my birthdays with the nanny of the month." He grasped Greg's shoulder. "I'm glad we're friends, Greg."

At his words, Greg realized how much he'd been neglecting all of his friends lately, and not just Henry. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced around the room. Archie was telling some wild story to a skeptical Hodges and an enthralled Riley. Wendy and Mandy were whispering conspiratorially in the corner, their eyes locked on Hodges. Langston was talking to Brass by the door, and Nick was telling something to Catherine, whose eyes were narrowed and arms were crossed. Greg's gaze lingered on that couple, watching as Catherine nodded and her eyes grew even narrower with every word Nick told her.

"… not exactly considered super cool, because, I mean, I was a D&D geek who believed in conspiracy theories, but that's OK because this isn't high school. People take time to get to know you here, and not just brush you off thinking you're not worth their time."

Greg blinked as he refocused on Henry and realized he had missed half of the monologue.

"That's important, isn't it?" Henry asked, his eyes bright. He didn't even seem the least bit suspicious that Greg's attention was elsewhere. "Taking the time to get to know people. To care about them. To let them help you out, from time to time? You get that, I know you do. I see you, the way you talk to Nick and Wendy and everyone. It's a give and take. And I've seen you give, and give, and give, Greg, but you're not too proud to take help when it's offered."

Greg managed a twisted smile that he hoped didn't betray the nausea that was rising in his stomach. "Yeah… You're right, Henry."

"You proved that," Henry went on. "It really meant a lot to me that you accepted my gift, Greg. It really makes me happy that you let me help you. It helped me know, for sure, that we really are friends, aren't we?" He seemed startled that he'd said that. "I mean, you know, not that I needed proof or anything, it was just… comforting." He smiled just for the sake of it.

It was in that moment that Greg realized that the significance of Henry's gift meant something completely different to the eager lab tech than it did to Greg, and suddenly, the CSI didn't feel so guilty anymore. He recalled the card Henry had given him. Don't tear up the check, it would really hurt my feelings. "You're… glad that I took your money?" he asked, just to clarify.

Henry nodded rapidly. "Oh, definitely! I mean, what good is money if you can't use it to help your friends?"

A smile slowly spread across Greg's face and he nodded. And then, without warning, he pulled Henry into a tight hug. He felt the lab tech laugh in his embrace.

"You're a really good person, Henry," Greg said. "A little oblivious, a little paranoid, but that's not what's important." He pulled away, so he could look Henry in the eyes. "I'm really glad that we're friends, too. Don't know what I'd do without you." And he meant it. And this time, he wasn't just saying it about Henry's money.

"Hit me," Neil dared with a challenging smile, boxing gloves on.

But Greg shook his head. "I can't."

"You won't get it unless you can hit me," Neil said. "I'm not made of glass, Greg, I won't break."

"But you'll bruise," Greg told him. "You'll bleed. You'll be—"

"Marred," Neil interrupted. "Tell me, Greg, is keeping me perfect worth ruining your life? Hit me."

Greg gritted his teeth and gathered his resolve. Still, when he threw the punch, he stopped short of Neil's cheek, and his old flame didn't even flinch.

"So you don't get it," Neil said. "What do you expect? You won't be able to see it unless you can hit me. Bruise me. Break me. Do it."

"No!" Greg yelled, stripping off his gloves and throwing them on the mat. "No, you're not some glass idol that needs to be shattered, you're—" He stopped and looked up at Neil, who was no longer wearing his gloves either but dressed in the suit they had buried him in.

"You know what you have to do, Greg," Neil said quietly. "You'll never understand it until you do it."

"I loved you so much," Greg whispered.

"And he loves you more," Neil returned.

"Not true," Greg said, shaking his head vehemently. "Not possible."

Neil smiled, that classic, reassuring smile Greg remembered from all the times Neil had picked up the shattered pieces of his lover's life. "It's me, Greg. I'm clouding your judgment. You have to get rid of me. You have to let me go. Until you do, you'll never understand it."

"I don't understand anything anymore, Neil," Greg returned. "Not without you."

Neil sighed and gave him a sympathetic look. "You have to let go of your fear, Greg. Become the shark. Chase the minnow. If you don't, you'll surely drown."

And with those words, Greg was in the water again, which was choppier than ever, the waves crashing over him and he wondered for the first time if it was an ocean. The stars were bright above him, and he saw the familiar shoreline, with trees scattered behind it, and the old dock. The shadow was still there, but it no longer held any flares. Greg had to go on instinct alone, often losing his way, as he swam towards the docks with everything he had, determined to once and for all see what was waiting for him there.

The water fought him all the way, and with every stroke it felt as if it were solidifying into an amorphous solid, making it more and more difficult for him to make any progress, but he screwed up his face with effort and pressed through it, pushing back the solidified water that was far too hot to be ice. At first, it was like swimming through rubber cement. His whole body was spread thin enough as it was, but then it was like charging through solid granite. Still, in his dreams, Greg was a superhero, and he carved at the rock like a glacial river, sculpting the landscapes of future mountains and valleys.

The irony of the situation was that was so hard this time, that Greg was almost certain he would succeed. Nothing would wake him, and nothing would distract him, not Neil, or finances, or anything. And then, with one last, massive stroke he found himself at the edge of the dock. He pulled himself up onto it and with a flash of lightning, recognized the person who stood there, as well as the heap that laid at his feet.

Greg stared at himself blankly. The dreamer took in this image of his dream-self which stood before him on the dock. Both of them were soaked to the bone, but the one that stood on the dock had the most striking, twisted expression on his face reminiscent of a gothic gargoyle.

Greg's dream-self was staring at the heap as if he were on fire. His face was contorted into an expression of such deep agony that it was painful even to look at him. He fell to his knees and gathered the heap up in his arms, which the dreamer quickly recognized as a body.

"No, no, no, no, no…" his dream-self was saying, clutching the back of the corpses head and holding it over his shoulder. He cradled the thing as if it were a child, though it laid as limp as a ragdoll. And still, Greg's dream-self kept murmuring, "no, no, no, no, no!" as if saying it enough times would make any sort of difference.

Water already soaked his face, but the dreamer was nearly positive that not all of it was the rain's fault. His dream-self's eyes were swollen red, his face the gauntest shade of white Greg thought was normally reserved only for ghosts. He began to rock back and forth, kissing the temple of the corpse, whispering into its hair…

"I'm sorry, so sorry, please, Nicky, I'm sorry, you can't leave me here alone, not now, not like this, not again, not again…"

Something crashed into the dock, sending a massive tremor through it and knocking the dreamer into the water. He turned around in time to see a fin heading straight for him.

Become the shark, a voice echoed in his head, or be eaten.