A/N: Sorry that this one has taken so long to get, but the motherboard in my computer burned out and I had to have it replaced. Arrrg! Quite frustrating when you have to go to the library everyday and use their slow Internet. Plus it was quite distracting when the same, very smelly man came in at the same time as myself and sat across from me every time. I think there should be hygiene laws for public places:))
Anyways, I'm sorry about the wait and now we are back on track:) Here is an extra, extra long chapter to make it up to you:)
I owe a HUGE thank you to JellyBeanChiChi on this chapter, she was such a HUGE help and played a BIG part in writing this. Thank you JellyBean!
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Chapter Twenty
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Denalgio, the round-headed, twisted son-of-a-bitch, continued to pace around Greg while the man in charge talked on his phone. When Shelling ended his call Denalgio quickly piped up.
"You know, we could have some fun right now..."
"Don't waste your time or energy," Shelling said. "We need to be fresh for Mister Grissom."
Greg will never forget their laughter. Never forget the chills he felt upon hearing that phrase. Never forget the way Denalgio looked at him. And he'll never forget what Denalgio told him when Shelling wasn't looking. All Greg could see was that round, masked head approaching him, the hands of that madman touching his face and hair.
"This Grissom... you think he's tough, pretty boy?"
"Grissom's tough," Greg replied defiantly.
There was that laugh again. God, he hated that laugh. Denalgio got into Greg's face, too close to the CSI's lips, so Greg turned his face away.
"Fuckin' punk!" Denalgio yelled. He slapped Greg only to be reprimanded by Shelling.
"Goddammit! What the fuck did I tell you!"
Denalgio let out a scowling huff and returned to Greg's face. "When we get done with him, he won't be tough. He won't be smart. He'll just be a dead bitch."
The sound of Greg spitting on Denalgio's masked face was enough to make Shelling approach Greg and stop Denalgio quickly. But Denalgio simply wiped the spit off his face and laughed. He took a chair and sat in front of Greg. Those eyes. They pierced Greg. He kept watching, and watching, and watching.
Shelling made another call, and Denalgio quickly closed the gap between him and Greg. This time he spoke in Greg's ear.
"Just for that little stunt, you fucking asshole, I'm going to make sure that I'm the first one to fuck Grissom in the mouth."
The intake of air from Greg was low enough to be a personal gift for Denalgio.
"And I'll be thinking of you when I shoot cum down his throat and on his face."
Greg's breathing became rapid. He felt Denalgio's tongue slowly lick a trail from just below his earlobe and up the outside of his ear. Greg could feel Denalgio's hot breath as he spoke in Greg's ear.
"Then I'm going to ram my cock so far up you tough boss's asshole he's going to beg for fucking mercy."
Greg wished he were deaf. He wished he were dead. He wished Grissom had never answered that phone.
"Because of you," Denalgio continued in an evil whisper. "I'll be able to fuck that worthless son-of-a-bitch over and over."
Denalgio kissed Greg's ear, as if the last comment was an intimate gesture in this torturous relationship.
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Greg could practically feel that kiss again as he awoke, sweating and frightened, from the reoccurring nightmare. As much as that last feeling lingered in his unconscious, his waking thoughts were plagued by images from that disc.
He wept alone in his apartment as the afternoon sun peeked through the fluttering curtains. He thought about calling Sara and checking on her and Grissom but he couldn't do it. He just couldn't bring himself to face them yet. He called Nick instead.
"Stokes," Nick said abruptly.
Greg hesitated at Nick's greeting. Residue from his nightmare still plagued his mind. He shook off his thoughts. "Hey, Nick. It's Greg."
"Greggo? You feeling okay?" Nick's tone seemed clipped. Not like his usual self and Greg was surprised when he realized that he didn't sound sleepy either.
"Uh... I'm just... kind of tired out. Nick, something wrong?"
Nick took a deep breath. This wouldn't be easy to tell his friend. He knew Greg still blamed himself for what had happened to their supervisor. "Greg... Grissom tried to kill himself yesterday afternoon."
Greg sat straight up in bed. Fresh tears welled in his eyes. "What? How?"
"Warrick was watching him at their place and he fell asleep. Grissom got a hold of Warrick's gun. It happened pretty fast, but Sara was able to talk him down."
"Did he shoot?"
"No," Nick said quickly. The compassion in is voice returned. "No, Greg. He didn't fire the gun at all. Everything's cool. He had a really tough day yesterday and things got to be too much for him. I know Sara's taking Grissom to a therapist this afternoon. He'll get back on track."
Nick could hear Greg on the other line, even though his friend said nothing. Nick decided not to elaborate on Gil's seizure. "Hey, Greggo? Still there?"
"Yeah. Yeah I'm here."
"Listen, Greg, he's going to be okay. We just... got to keep pushing on. Gotta keep thinking good thoughts."
Yeah, Nick. You're right. How's Warrick doing?"
"He's doing," Nick said, recalling how he had watched Warrick bash in a locker while the two stood in the locker room at work. "He just fell asleep, you know? We've all been working overtime and he was trying to help out and... we just can't blame him."
"Warrick couldn't have known that would happen." Greg said with conviction.
"None of us could," Nick said. "Hey, Greg, how about we meet for dinner tonight. You've been the invisible man lately, and even though you're scheduled to come back soon, it'd be good to catch up."
Greg thought about it. After his own kidnapping he just couldn't bear to be around everyone.
We just... got to keep pushing on. Nick's words echoed in his head. Greg found solace in those words in the aftermath of his own personal hell. It was time to push on. It was time to think good thoughts.
"Yeah, Nick. I'd like that," Greg said. "Maybe we can give Sara a call and see how she's doing."
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When they arrived at the building where Stacey Tolliver's office was located Jim and Sara helped Gil over to the bank of elevators. Gil quietly rode with them but they kept a light hold on his arms as he now seemed to sway a bit and despite the calm, outer shell that appeared they could feel the tenseness of his muscles.
When they reached the right floor they helped him into Stacey's office and were a little surprised that the therapist was the only one there. Sara and Jim helped Gil through the empty waiting room and into Stacey's modest office. Gil wanted to sit on the love seat that was closest to the door and Sara helped him lift his left leg up so that he could stretch the braced limb out on the rest of the couch.
"Sara, can I talk to you for a moment?" Stacey asked after Gil was settled.
Sara and Jim followed Stacey back into the empty waiting room and Sara momentarily wondered where his secretary, Amanda, was.
"Have there been any changes since we talked?"
Sara and Jim shared a knowing look and she proceeded in telling Stacey about Gil's suicide attempt and what little he had shared about his dreams and the voices. When Stacey was satisfied with the new information he went back and shut the door. Sara and Jim each took a seat and began their hour-long wait.
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Stacey sat down in the armchair across from Gil.
"Hello, Gil, my name is Stacey Tolliver. I'm sure Sara already told you who I am, but I like to make formal introductions." Gil was silent. "So, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself and I'll tell you a little bit about myself and we can get to know each other a little." Silence. "Your file says that you're an entomologist. One of the leading in the country." Stacey was impressed and it was conveyed though his voice, but he was met with silence.
Gil's breathing was deep and fast. He concentrated on each individual breath. It was the only thing that kept him from having an outburst. Rage. Panic. Crying. These were just a few of the things that were struggling to explode from him as he concentrated on the sky blue carpet.
"I'll bet they call you the 'Bug Man', don't they? I never really liked bugs in general, but I did have a butterfly collection when I was younger." Stacey relaxed back in his armchair, hoping that Gil would read his body language and do the same, but Gil fidgeted nervously. "You know what I've always liked about butterflies?" Silence. "They begin as what most would consider unsightly or ugly, then they lock themselves away and in a few days time... they reemerge as something beautiful."
Gil stopped fidgeting and shot him a glance before looking back down at the floor. For a long time all that could be heard was the ticking of the clock.
They had spent the rest of the hour with Stacey making small talk and Gil staring at the floor. Stacey had been pleased with the reaction that he had gotten from Gil on the subject of butterflies but after that, no matter how hard he tried, he had gotten no further response from Gil other than Gil's eagerness to leave once their time was up.
When they had gotten back out to the car Sara asked Gil how his first session went. He was silent but his body language spoke volumes. He began to nervously rub his right thigh and his breathing picked up again.
"I d-don't want t-to g-g-go b-b-back."
"Gil..." Sara sighed as she sat back and looked out through the windshield. "You need therapy, Gil."
"You c-can help m-me." He pleaded as he looked at her.
"I can only help you so much, Gil," she turned to face him. "You need to talk to a trained therapist. Someone who can help you get through this."
"P-P-Please..." he choked back his tears. "P-P-Please d-don't m-make m-me g-go b-b-back."
"Gil, I'm not going to make you do anything, but you need to do this. If you don't want to do this for yourself than do it for us... or for your job... but you need to do it."
Gil dropped his head and closed his eyes as he felt his rage begin to well up in him again. Sara and Jim watched him closely as he struggled to control his breathing and consequently his rage. When he had calmed back down enough he remained with his head bowed and his eyes closed but spoke in a controlled voice.
"F-Fine." He sounded calm but neither one of them missed the undertone of resentment in his voice.
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When they reached the townhouse Jim and Sara helped Gil inside and settled him on the couch.
"Well, if you two are okay for a few hours..." Jim teased with a playful smile.
"I suppose we can do without you for a few hours." Sara quipped as she rolled her eyes in a playful fashion.
Gil didn't hear the light-hearted joke that his friends had made. What Gil heard was the expression of what a burden he was to his friends, and it was like a slap in the face.
When Sara walked Jim to the door Gil realized that he needed to use the bathroom. He determined that he would do it himself. He didn't want their help and he reminded himself that he didn't want to be a burden or a charity case.
He pushed himself, unsteadily, off the couch and began his wobbly journey down to the guest bathroom. He hugged the wall as much as he could without knocking off the multitude of framed pictures and display cases that were there.
When Sara returned to the living room and Gil was not on the couch where she had left him she began to panic.
"Gil," she called as she headed for the kitchen.
As she hurried past the hallway leading to the guestroom and office she saw him leaning heavily against the wall as he inched his way down the hall.
"Gil, where are you going?" Sara asked as she jogged to his side.
"I'm g-going t-to the b-b-bathroom. D-Do you m-mind." Sara ignored his bitter sarcasm as she stepped in close to his other side and took his arm. He scowled at her when she touched him and she ignored that too. "I c-c-can d-do it m-myself." He grumbled.
"Gil, you need help getting around until your knee is healed. It's okay."
"I'm n-not f-f-feeble." Gil argued.
"No one ever said you were." Sara frowned.
They made it to the bathroom and Gil tried to shut the door before Sara entered, but she easily put her hand out and stopped it while biting back her annoyance. He propped himself on the bathroom counter with one hand and with his other hand he pushed the front of his sweat pants down far enough to get out of them. Sara quietly stood behind him with her hands on his tense shoulders to steady him.
When he was done he washed his hands and headed back into the hallway, not waiting for Sara's help. She rolled her eyes after he had turned his back and tried not to sigh in her growing agitation at his bad attitude. She followed close behind, keeping her hands on his shoulders, and when they got into the hallway she stepped in close to his side.
She again took Gil's arm and he tried to shake her hand off. His mood swing had her slightly confused at first. That morning he had been afraid of her and now, just a few hours later, he was growing increasingly angry with her. She had to remind herself that this was normal. Both the rape and brain injury were going to make him have mood swings and they could not hold that against him. It wasn't his fault and he had every right to be moody if he wanted to be.
When they got back to the living room Gil bumped the coffee table, like he had every time he had walked through the living room before. The bump had tipped over glass of water that had been left on its wooden surface and it splashed to the floor. Sara couldn't hold back her sigh this time as she picked a towel up from the table and began to wipe up the mess.
"It's okay, Gil, Nick's coming over to help me move the furniture around."
"I d-don't n-need his help." Gil said as he went to push the couch back. He lost his balance and fell hard on the floor on his right side.
"Gil!" Sara cried out in surprise as she grabbed for him but was too late to catch him. She carefully helped him to his feet and he pulled from her grasp.
"St-Stop it." Gil demanded.
"No, you need to stop. You're going to hurt yourself." She stopped herself and closed her eyes for a moment to calm down. When she spoke again her tone was more pleading. "Gil, we do need Nick's help. And that's okay. Please understand that."
They both heard the doorbell ring and Sara settled Grissom on the couch and without a word, went to answer the door.
It was Nick. Gil could hear his enthusiastic greeting for Sara, and could hear how Sara was so happy to see him. Gil heard Nick say that he had brought Sara food so she wouldn't have to cook.
Because you're such a burden, he heard a small voice in the back of his mind say. She's probably grateful there's a real man in the house.
Gill didn't hear much else coming from the door, just how Sara's voice seemed happier at the sight of company. Nick must have brought someone else with him. She carried on light conversation. Talked about the events of the day and joked lightly.
She's joking about you and how pathetic you are, the voice continued. Then the voices in his head mixed with the voices reaching his ears. Sara wanted Nick to help move the furniture so Gil could move around better.
She needs help because you're useless. You should have shot yourself yesterday, you fucking coward! They brought over food so they could laugh while they watch Sara spoon-feed you like a fucking child.
Gil's agitation returned with a vengeance. Once again he began pounding on his right thigh. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted them out of his goddamn house, out of his goddamn head!
He grabbed the glass off the table and gripped it tightly in his hand. He couldn't understand what was happening. All he knew was that he wanted to be left the fuck alone by the voices that kept returning to his head and he wanted to lash out at anyone that said another thing to him.
Sara entered the room with Nick and Greg to explain what she wanted to move, and she stopped when she saw Gil's angry, red face. His body shook as he tightly gripped the glass and everything about him screamed rage.
"Gil?" she asked cautiously. "What's wrong, Gil?"
She put her hand on his arm when he didn't respond and that was the last straw. Lost in his rage he threw to the cup down on the coffee table, which had been the center of his focus, and it shattered into hundreds of pieces. Then, without comprehending the pain in his leg as he surged up from the sofa, he flipped the coffee table.
Nick and Sara reached to grab Gil's arms, but he pushed Sara away and she fell hard on the floor amidst some of the broken glass. With his free arm he punched Nick in the chest, knocking him back against the wall. Gil turned and saw his face reflected in the mirror hanging on the wall next to him and, in his rage, he didn't recognize his own face. What he saw was something angry and grotesque. Screaming, he put his fist through the mirror and cut his knuckles.
Nick and Greg moved towards Gil and both saw the lack of recognition in his eyes. Gil didn't see his friends. He saw Shelling and Denalgio advancing on him. He lashed out and caught both young men off guard. He threw a punch that connected hard with Nick's jaw and roughly pushed Greg against the wall. As he turned to run for the door, both men grabbed him.
With an arm still healing, Greg couldn't get a good hold on Gil. He watched Gil and Nick fall face first to the floor. Gil struggled hard against Nick. Gil couldn't reconcile that he was not being attacked. To him he was face first on the floor with one of his rapists on top of him.
"N-No!" Gil screamed in horror. "N-No, p-please d-don't! P-Please, d-don't rape m-me!"
Gil thrashed, banging his head on the floor three times before Nick put his hand on Gil's head, holding him still.
"Easy, Griss. It's alright, no one's going to hurt you."
Gil stayed rigid on the floor. Nick continued to soothe him as best as possible. He feared being the cause of another seizure, but he could feel Gill begin to relax in his grasp.
Nick pulled Gil up off the floor and settled him onto the couch. The first thing that Gil saw was Greg helping Sara. He saw the young man tenderly holding Sara's arm, which suffered some scrapes from the broken glass on the floor.
With his rage dissipated, the events of the last few minutes replayed in Gil's head. "Oh, G-G-God, S-Sara. I'm s-s-sorry." With Greg's help, Sara stood up and went and sat on the couch next to Gil. "I hurt y-you."
"I'm fine. But we have to look at your hand." Gently taking his hand Sara examined the deep cuts in Gil's knuckles. Some still had small pieces of glass embedded in them. "We need to get you to the hospital, I think you might need stitches."
"N-No." Gil shook his head. "N-No hosp-pital."
"Alright," she put her hands up and didn't force the issue. "But we do need to clean up that hand and get you bandaged."
With Nick's help she got Gil down to the bathroom. When Gil was settled on the toilet Nick left the room to go clean up the mess caused by the ruckus. Hank had followed them into the bathroom and sat down by Gil's feet and nudged his uninjured hand. Gil didn't respond, so Hank rested his head on Gil's uninjured leg and looked up at his dad as soft, barely audible whimpers emanated from his throat.
Sara looked down at Hank for a brief moment before she began cleaning Gil's new wound. Hank had been very faithful to Gil since he had come home from the hospital. He had never left Gil's side the whole time. Even when he went to bed at night Hank stayed with him. He had not gotten on the bed once, which was opposite of his custom, but instead slept on the floor next to Gil's side on the bed. Sara could never be completely sure but she was positive that the boxer sensed Gil's injuries and didn't want to make them worse.
After cleaning Gil's wound, and stopping the blood that oozed from the cuts, Sara applied ointment and a non-stick gauze pad before taping it to his hand. Then she carefully helped him out of his shirt and was relieved to see that he had not torn any of the remaining stitches.
"C-Can N-Nick look at you n-now, t-to m-make sure you're ok-kay?" Gil asked as she buttoned up his shirt and he sat still with his eyes downcast.
The tone of his voice offered both guilt and shame. Sara knew Gil's rage was a culmination of everything that had happened, especially in the last twenty-four hours.
"I told you, I'm fine. I was going to tell them to come back another day." Sara replied, trying to catch a look at Gil's eyes. Her efforts were to no avail.
"N-No," Gil said softly. "He'll t-take c-care of you. I hurt you."
Sara stood, holding Gil's bandaged hand. Before she could reply there was a knock on the door.
"Sara? Everything okay?" Nick asked from the other side of the door.
"Yeah." Sara said solemnly as she opened the door. "You wanna give us a hand?"
They helped Gil off the toilet and began the slow journey down the hallway. Gil was drained after his outburst and they had to half-carry him back to the couch. Once he was situated he closed his eyes and sat in silence. Nick tapped Sara's shoulder and she turned to look at him.
"Let's have a look your arm." The two went back to the bathroom and left Gil to be alone.
Gil listened to Nick and Sara as they made their way back to the bathroom and spoke in hushed voices. He also heard someone moving around in the kitchen. About ten minutes later he heard Sara's voice.
"Hank," Sara called the dog. "Come on boy. Let's go for a walk."
The statement made Gil open his eyes. "You're l-leaving w-with Hank?"
His voice seemed distant and Sara saw a hint of fear in his eyes. If Gil continued to withdraw and become mired in his depression, Sara knew his voice would become unrecognizable. Even when he took a step forward, as he had the night before, he was beginning to take two steps back. And Sara felt she was losing him.
"I'm just taking Hank out for a walk, and Nick didn't want me to go alone. We'll be back."
She didn't say goodbye to him. She just couldn't bear too, not after his suicide attempt. Nick put a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. "Don't worry, he won't be alone."
Gil's eyes never left the couple as he watched Nick lead Sara away. He should be accompanying her on the walk. But he couldn't and he was hurting her because he was a failure. A broken, old failure.
"Hey, Grissom," Greg said as he stepped into the living room, holding a coffee cup. "You feel like a cup?"
"G-Greg?" Gil's voice echoed surprise and concern.
Gil had forgotten that Greg was present for the whole ordeal. In all his time since the kidnapping, Gil had seen little of Greg. It didn't bother Gil. The less people who saw him at his most vulnerable moments, the better. Greg probably thought that Gil was too pathetic to visit.
So, Gil thought. Why is he here now?
The two men exchanged looks and then retreated within themselves. They hadn't realized that they both shared the same feeling at that moment -- guilt for causing the other pain.
Gil stared at his hands but mumbled, "Ar-Are you ok-kay?"
"What?" Greg replied in surprise.
Gil cleared his throat and gave a quick glance at Greg before looking back down at his hands. "Ar-Are you ok-kay?... I've... I've b-been w-worried about w-what... w-what hap-pened t-to you... I... I d-didn't know if you w-were ok-kay."
Greg never expected this visit to be easy, especially after seeing the older man's outburst. Gil was supposed to be bitter. Angry. Resentful. And it was supposed to be directed towards him... towards Greg... the person who was told what would happen and then watched it just hours after it did.
"Me? Yeah, Grissom, I'm fine," Greg said, wiping a tear from his eye. "My arm's pretty much healed." Greg offered a small smile. Gil gave him one back.
"N-No one told m-me w-what hap-pened to you," Gil said, his smile a distant memory. "I... I j-just... I d-didn't w-want t-to think... that they."
Gil struggled with his words. Greg helped him. And at that moment he was the only one who could help Gil because Greg understood exactly what Gil was trying to say.
"It's okay, Grissom. They didn't rape me. They just beat me up a bit. They didn't do to me what they did to you."
Gil's eyes returned to his hands but he let out a sigh and closed his eyes tight. He couldn't lose it again.
God, don't let me lose it again. I have to tell Greg I'm sorry. They kept him captive because of me. He'll never forgive me.
"I'm sorry." Greg's voice once again startled Gil from his own thoughts. He looked up at Greg whose tears now flowed down his cheeks.
"Grissom... dammit. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Greg kept seated, but sobbed and fidgeted in his seat. "He told me what he would do to you. He whispered it in my goddamn ear. I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything. I didn't fight him. I didn't find you. I'm no better. I'm no better than those fucking rapists. I'm fucking worse because I'm a goddamn coward."
Greg held his face in his hands as he continued to cry. It was so silent in the room, Greg's loneliness became punctuated by his own mantra of, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The tension in the air beat down upon the young man.
Then he felt a shaking hand upon his head.
For a minute, while Greg calmed, he felt Gil's hand gently rub the top of his head. Greg finally looked up and Gil pulled his hand away.
"P-Please, G-Greg," Gil said, his eyes quickly looking at Greg before becoming downcast once more. "You're n-nothing like them. N-Nothing. They used you to g-get to m-me. If it w-wasn't for m-me, you n-never w-would have b-been there. I'm s-sorry." Gil hung his head low and tightly shut his eyes. "I'm a c-c-coward. I l-let them d-do that to m-me. I'm... I'm n-not a m-man."
Greg looked at Gil, astonished. Again there was silence. With his eyes shut Gil wasn't even sure if Greg was still in the room. That was until Greg moved closer and sat on the coffee table in front of Gil.
"Come on," the barely composed Greg said with a smile. "Rock, paper, scissors."
"Wh-What?" Gil asked as he raised his eyes and met Greg's.
"I'm offering you a chance for a rematch."
"Re-Rematch?" And then it dawned on Gil. They had played that game to see who would stay at the crime scene and who would go to the lab. "W-Why?"
"Because we need to start over."
Somewhat reluctantly, Gil once again held out his right fist, which slightly shook this time. He stuttered as he copied Greg's chant and followed his actions as they played the simple children's game. After three fist pumps Gil held out a flat hand and Greg, sitting with a smile on his face, held out his fist.
"Paper beats rock every time."
"R-Right. D-Do I w-win s-something?"
"Forgiveness." Greg said, catching Gil's incredulous look. "Not just from me, but from yourself. You're not a coward, Grissom. You're not. Only a brave man would put his own needs aside for another man's life."
Greg had so much to say but he waited for those words to sink in. After witnessing how much rage Gil had for himself, Greg thought this might be the only time he would have to get through to him. For the sake of Gil, Sara, their friends and for Greg's own sanity, he had to keep punching and get through to the Grissom of before. "You saved my life out there, Grissom. You risked everything for me. Please let me help you. Let Sara help you."
"There's n-nothing l-left to help."
Greg took a deep breath and for the first time since he arrived, probably the first time ever, he touched Gil. He took the older man's hand. "Yes there is."
"N-No." Gil tried to get his hand out of Greg's grasp.
"Yes, there is." Greg put his other hand on Gil's shoulder. "I never fought back. I never told them to stop. I know what it's like to hear their voices, to feel their presence and to feel so nauseous you think you might not ever eat again. Do you think I'm a coward because of that?"
Gil stopped struggling. "N-No."
"Do you want me to give up everything, including my job and my happiness, because of that?"
Gil shook his head. "N-No. No, G-Greg."
"Then neither should you. We're not going to let you give up."
Gil tried not to cry in front of Greg. He tried to keep his face downcast, but he brought his face up just for a second to see Greg smiling and full of compassion. Before he could retreat from Greg's gaze, the young man spoke again. "I didn't know about you and Sara, but when I saw her picture on your cell phone, it really kept me going in that stupid shack in the desert."
Greg chuckled but saw the mist in Gil's eyes. "I know you love her, Grissom, and God, she loves you so much."
"I'm hurting her. I d-don't d-d-deserve her."
"Does anybody?" Greg said, receiving an understanding nod from Gil. "I mean, she's something special. But she's chosen you."
"And I c-can't g-give up."
"Yeah." Greg's voice was barely more than a whisper. "That's right. You can't." He squeezed the older man's hand then released it. "You want some coffee now? I brought my stash."
"Ok-kay," Gil replied. He kept his eyes downcast, but then lifted them a little. "G-Greg? Thank you."
The younger man nodded and left for the kitchen.
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When Sara and Nick returned with Hank they both expected to see Gil still sitting on the couch and still lost in his withdrawal. They were pleasantly surprised, however, to see that he and Greg were sitting side by side on the couch, drinking coffee. Due to the shakiness, Gil needed help to steady the cup. But now, he gratefully accepted the kind gesture rather than take it with spite.
When Sara entered the living room Gil looked up at her and smiled. It was a warm and welcoming smile. One that she had missed for what seemed a long time. As she looked deep into his eyes it was as if she were looking at a new man.
Tears formed in her eyes as relief washed over her. Greg got off the couch and asked if they wanted coffee. Nick said, "Yes," but Sara had not even heard the question. She took a seat beside Gil. Nick and Greg excused themselves to the kitchen to give their friends some privacy.
Sara was speechless. She wanted to know what had happened while she and Nick were gone, but couldn't speak through the lump in her throat. Gil took her hand in one of his and he raised his other, shaking hand and brushed away a tear that had escaped the rest and now rolled down her cheek.
"I'm n-not g-giving up," he whispered to her, with determination. "I l-love you too m-much to hurt you l-like that."
Sara pulled him into loving hug and let her tears flow freely. Gil held her close as his own relief washed over him. They both knew that his recovery was far from over, but now that he was determined to get through this and not give up it would make the journey a little less painful.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________A/N:
A/N: Okay, this is the part where I'm supposed to tell you wonderful, beautiful, patient, gorgeous readers to review. I'm not going to tell you to review, I'm not even going to beg. I will say this though, you all have been awesome and supportive. You really give this story wings with your reviews.
And not the Stay Free wings, which hold you down, but the wings of a Dove... or a Seagull.
There goes my sense of humor again!
