I've finally updated. I know it's been a while but life got in the way, as it tends to do. I apologise for this chapter being really short but I was struggling to move on with it.

Usual disclaimer applies. Reviews are very welcome as always, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Hope you enjoy.

xXx

Greg, dinner's ready

Greg sits up with a start, blinking and gazing around the room, his mother's voice still echoing around him. He frowns, panting softly, and watches as a light breeze ruffles the curtains and makes the lamp shade above him sway from side to side. Rubbing his eyes, Greg gazes around him at the cosy furniture and hard wood floor, at the posters crowding the walls and the books covering the shelves.

Pulling himself out of bed, Greg stares at a line of trophies on the dresser. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over the cool metal. 'Master Chess Champion 1989' he reads, hands shaking slightly as they trace the letters. He picks up a framed high school diploma resting next to the trophies, stares into the glass and back at his own reflection, noting the lines beginning to show around his eyes and the dusting of stubble across his cheeks. He shakes his head, nearly dropping the frame as his mother's voice pierces the silence again.

Greg, I won't ask you again!

He closes his eyes, opening them again to a now familiar white room. He cries out, losing his balance and stumbling into the wall, his fingers gripping into the padding as he slips to the floor, the smell of his mother's lasagne still assaulting his senses. Trembling, Greg covers his face with his hands.

"It's time for your medication, Greg" A soft voice calls to him and he glances up, cheeks streaked with tears as he gazes into soft brown eyes.

The sound of heals clicking on the floor comforts him and he leans into the person kneeling beside him.

"I've missed you." He whispers, closing his eyes as a gentle hand comes up to stroke his hair.

"I'm here every day."

Greg frowns, shaking his head as he takes the cup held out to him and tips the pill back into his mouth, swallowing thickly.

"I feel like I haven't seen you for so long." He replies, coughing as the bitter pill scrapes his throat. "Please don't leave me again, Catherine."

A small sob escapes him as the gentle touch is withdrawn and he is pushed back against the wall, held in place as she climbs to her feet and moves away from him. Greg blinks up at her, his gaze clouded, and frowns.

"I don't like that colour on you." He says, watching her leave, before curling up on the floor again.

xXx

Greg groans, his muscles protesting as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He stares at the floor, its solidity digging into his bones as he shifts and struggles into a more comfortable position. He presses the heals of his hands into his eyes, his head pounding and his stomach rolling, broken memories crowding into his jostled mind. Chess tournaments and home made cooking, and Marilyn Manson posters so familiar that Greg's chest aches at the thought.

I just want to go home...he thinks, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his head on his knees. Feeling heavy and weak, he doesn't even look up when the door opens and a lady in a dark suit steps into his white room.

"Greg, how are you feeling today?" She asks, kneeling beside him, her dark hair brushing against his arm.

"Mom?" Greg mutters, turning away from her soft voice.

"No Greg, it's Doctor Munroe, you know that."

Greg frowned, mumbling softly to himself and closing his eyes as the doctor gently stroked his hair.

"I spoke to your parents today, Greg. They want to come and see you." The doctor's voice was soft as she coaxed Greg away from the wall and attempted to make eye contact with him.

"What's happening to me?" Greg whispered softly, turning away from her again and wiping his cheeks with his hands.

"It's all part of the treatment, Greg. How about tomorrow we have a little talk to see if you're up for a visit?" Greg's head snapped up at her words, reaching out to her as she stood up and smoothed down her smart suit jacket.

"Can I go home then?"

"We'll see, sweetie."

xXx

After the door was shut and securely locked behind the departing doctor, Greg pulled himself up off the floor and started pacing the room. He gazed up at the ceiling and ran his fingers along the marks dotting the padded walls, humming to himself. He let his mind drift, remembering people and places, thoughts and feelings.

He smiled, one memory lingering. The cab of a truck, the smell of cologne and good coffee and country songs on the radio. His feet were on the dash and Nick was beside him and he was laughing, batting Greg's hand away from the dial. Greg stilled and closed his eyes, a snatch of chorus leaving his lips before he could stop himself. He remembered rolling his eyes at Nick and teasing him about his taste in music as he tried to change the station.

Stifling a small sob, Greg opened his eyes to find someone staring at him on the other side of the room. Greg gasped, stumbling slightly and bracing himself against the padding as he gazed longingly at the man leaning casually against the wall.

"Nick...?" He whispered, starting to move forward with his arms outstretched, tears rolling down his cheeks as Nick continued to watch him, unmoving. Reaching him, Greg tried to grasp onto his shirt but the other man pushed him away. Blinking, Greg stuttered and choked, his breath hitching as he made another attempt to grab onto the older man. Once again he was shoved aside, harder this time, so that he stumbled and fell, his whole body shaking with shock.

"Nick..." He gasped again, trembling as Nick gazed down at him and started to laugh.