Thank you once again for the wonderful reviews. They've encouraged me to keep going with this.

Usual disclaimer applies...

xXx

The sun was warm and he closed his eyes, seeing light dance behind his closed eyelids as the soft breeze blew over him and moulded his thin shirt to his chest. Above him he could hear birds twittering away to each other in the branches of the swaying trees, and all around him the long grass leaned to and fro, tickling his bare arms.

"Such perfect weather..." A soft voice above him whispered, but he didn't open his eyes. A gentle hand touched his forehead, stroking through his hair, and Greg smiled as comforting heat radiated through his body. He knew that voice, he knew that touch, and now that he'd felt it again everything really would be ok.

"Anything for you, Sara." He replied, his eyes finally drifting open so he could gaze up at her. She looked down at him, a calm fondness in her eyes as she played with his hair.

"I shouldn't be here" Her voice was a soft lilt, but her words made him frown. For the first time he noticed she was dressed all in white and the breeze that was picking up speed around him had yet to touch her. Greg sat up and wrapped his arms around his body, suddenly feeling a chill prickle against his skin.

"Then why are you?" He asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted her to answer. Above him white clouds rolled, and the singing birds flapped their wings and took off into the blue.

"Someone's got to protect you"

"Protect me from what?"

"From yourself"

"Sara, where's Nick?"

But Sara didn't answer. Instead, she glanced up at the sky that was slowly darkening, a steely grey seeping in to blot out the sun. Greg glanced up too as the first drops of rain pattered against his face and stung his eyes. When he looked back, Sara was gone and he was alone, and the storm was brewing.

xXx

Blinking awake, Greg frowned and glanced around him. The same white room greeted him and he closed his eyes again, trying to will it all away with the power of thought alone. Something lingered in his memory, a fragment of dark and light and a lilting voice that brought tears to his eyes. He fought them down and sighed, shifting around against the uncomfortably hard mattress.

He was lifting his arm to rub his face when he realised that he was no longer strapped down to his cot and he sprang up and away, turning around in the small space, instantly on guard. When nothing happened however, he began to pace the room.

He reached a shaking hand out and touched the walls, noting their spongy texture with distaste. Here and there slight grooves and pits marred their surface, and Greg tried not to think about what might have gone on in here. Getting down onto his hands and knees, he gazed under the bed, his hands splayed on the solid, shiny floor. Finding nothing, he moved onto the door.

Leaning against it, ear pressed to the cool metal, Greg listened intently for any noises from the other side. After a moment of not hearing a thing, he began to run his fingers over the surface, tracing the lock and the heavy bolts in his search for a weakness. He tapped at the glass in the peephole, peering into it and seeing a tiny, elongated but empty corridor. Frowning, he pushed once against the door and was not surprised when it didn't budge. Taking a deep breath, Greg wandered into a spongy corner and slumped down to the ground.

xXx

It was a little while later when Greg heard the door click open. He raised his head from where it had been resting on his knees and peered at the woman who walked in, who was dressed in familiar white and clutching a white tray. Greg pulled a face and moved further into the wall, tightening his grip on his legs and ignoring the woman as she made her way over to him and knelt down.

"How are you feeling today, Gregory?" She asked, her voice soft and honey coated. Greg refused to meet her eyes.

"Let me go."

"It's up to you if you want to leave here." The woman explained calmly, placing the tray down and touching his fingers gently. Greg gazed at the hand covering his but did not move right away. He glared at her instead.

"Stop saying stuff like that, it's not true." He spat, yanking his hand back and turning into the wall, closing his eyes as the woman sighed and shook her head at him.

"What's not true Greg?"

But Greg remained silent, feeling tears of desperation and fear welling behind his closed lids. His fingers flexed against the soft walls, his hands gripping until his knuckled turned white and ached from the effort. He could hear the woman shifting beside him before she spoke again.

"I have your medication here. If we see you can take it orally then we won't have to strap you down anymore."

Greg turned back, peering at the woman, who held a small plastic cup out towards him. He eyed it suspiciously.

"What is it?"

"The new medication we discussed with your parents, the one that's helping to draw you out the delusions." The woman replied matter-of-factly, shaking the little plastic pot. Greg pushed her hand away.

"My delusions..." He repeated, his chest aching as a sob rose in his throat. He turned away again and pushed a closed fist against his lips, moaning softly. An image formed in his mind, Nick covering his body as he gazed down into his eyes, eyes that mirrored the love and devotion that was shining between them. It had felt so real. Gasping, Greg shook his head.

"It is real. Nick will find me, I know he will."

Sighing again, the woman gathered up the tray and prepared to stand.

"It's your choice, Gregory. We can do it the hard way..."

With the woman's back to him Greg pushed off the wall, slamming his shoulder into the woman as she knelt over the tray. With her balance off, she could only watch as Greg darted up and out of the door, running full pelt away from the little white room.

He got a few steps before strong arms around his waist brought him down, kicking and screaming and cursing loudly. He lashed out at the two dark haired men who carried him back into the room, holding him down on the bed as the straps were tightened around his wrists and ankles again.

"Get the fuck off me!" He cried, fighting back with everything he had, clawing at the people that held him down.

When he was finally secure and still, panting and glaring, the woman leaned down over him again, her face stony and her eyes narrowed.

"We'll have none of that, Mr Sanders." She said, her tone clipped and impersonal as she filled a syringe with clear liquid. Greg let out a soft sob as she grabbed his arm roughly, her nails digging into his skin as she pierced him with the needle.

"No one's coming to rescue you, so you'd better get used to it."

Greg's head rolled to the side, tears flowing down his cheeks as he drifted into unconsciousness.

xXx

To be continued...reviews, as always, very much appreciated.