Hello! It's been such a long time since I've updated any of my stories, I'm sure most people have forgotten me. I used to be Carebear-Stare18, but have changed my name and been floating around some other fandoms for a while. I'm still planning on finishing this one though.

I'm sorry it's so short, but I just wanted to get into it again by publishing something quick.

Usual disclaimer applies. Reviews are cherished! Hope you enjoy!

xXx

Greg settled down onto the couch, letting his eyes slowly drift closed and his body relax. In his left hand he felt the cool, rounded weight of a wine glass, partially full. He tightened his grip on the stem, the smooth glass comforting under his fingertips in its solidity. It's unwavering realness.

Slowly he became aware of soft music. The kind of music that drifted around you like a dream, getting under your clothes and settling on you like a second skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. For the first time, Greg realised he wasn't alone. Opening his eyes, he looked up to find Sara gazing down at him. She held out her hand.

"Dance with me."

Standing up, Greg placed the glass of wine, blood red and rich within the crystal glass, down onto the table. Glancing down at himself, he grimaced at the state of his clothes before looking back at Sara, looking so pretty in her white dress. He brushed her brown hair behind her ear before taking her into his arms, the feel of her body against his as unfamiliar as it was comforting.

"I don't think we've ever danced together before." Greg whispered, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the echoing room. Sara was stroking his hair.

"We've never done a lot of things." She said softly into his ear, still holding him close before turning to press a soft kiss to his lips. Greg closed his eyes, basking in the familiarity of her even as she stepped back and away from him. Opening his eyes again, he was just in time to catch the sight of her raised fist before she brought it down and hit him hard across the face.

Greg recoiled, stumbling against the table as Sara hit him again. The wine glass tumbled and smashed, sending a spray of red across the pale carpet. Greg held out his hands, pleading with his friend as she advanced on him, her eyes glinting and unnaturally pale in the low light.

"Why, Sara?" Greg tried as Sara kicked his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling into the broken glass, the halo of red wine soaking into his clothes as the shards cut his face and hands as Sara rained more kicks to his face and body.

Closing his eyes, Greg took it. Took the pain and the confusion and the humiliation until he felt Sara kneel down beside him, her comforting scent washing over him as she placed a hand on his head and gently stroked his hair.

"I came here for you, Greg."

xXx

Greg woke slowly, eyes blinking and adjusting to the harsh lights above him. Instead of pale carpet and a warm, scented room, he was met once again with bland whiteness, padded walls, and a locked door. He sighed in defeat, feeling tears prick his eyes as he remembered the feel of Sara close to him, felt the softness of her hair against his cheek. It all felt so real.

But not as real as the cold veil of loneliness that was creeping over him. A dark shroud that ached deep inside him and made the tears gathering under his eyelashes overflow and spill down his pale cheeks. He knew now that no one was coming to rescue him. Not Nick, not Sara, not Grissom; no one.

Covering his eyes, Greg began to sob quietly. He sobbed for the life he thought he knew, the life he had lost. He sobbed for missed chances and missed opportunities. He sobbed as he thought of his parents, worrying about him and trying to help him, when all he wanted was to leave them for good and go back to Vegas. He would do anything he could to go back, even if it meant giving up on himself.

Opening his eyes, he found himself staring up at Doctor Monroe, her brown hair falling in waves over her shoulder as she reached out to touch his arm. Startled, Greg sat up and wiped furiously at his stinging eyes.

"Good morning, Greg, how are you today?"

Greg could only manage a slight shake of his head as a heavy pounding began to build behind his eyes, making them sting even more. Doctor Monroe stroked his arm.

"I'm afraid the side effects of the new medication might make you feel a bit unwell for the next few days. I assure you it will pass."

Greg swallowed thickly, attempting to put words into his mouth despite the pounding in his head.

"When can I see my parents?" Greg asked, trying to hold the doctor's gaze with his own. He watched as she smiled comfortingly, her hand still on his arm, as if to reassure him.

"That's up to you, Greg. As soon as I feel enough progress has been made, then we can start to organise a visit." The doctor's words were soft, kind, and Greg hurried to answer her, sitting up straighter and running a hand through his messy hair.

"What kind of progress are we talking?"

The doctor smiled, removing her hand from Greg's arm and turning to perch beside him on the bed. Greg sat up even more, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him as the doctor turned to face him again.

"Tell me about Nick Stokes."

The calm Greg felt just moments before started to ebb away, replaced by an ache deep down inside him. Greg squeezed his eyes tightly shut, fighting against every instinct he had to rebel, to defend Nick's existence to a woman he barely knew; a woman who was trying to help him. Greg took a deep breath, his voice shaking.

"He's not real. I made him up."

The doctor smiled warmly at him, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"That's wonderful, Greg. You really are making progress."

Greg felt sick. He felt like crying again. He felt the need to apologise to Nick for dismissing him so easily. Nick, who had finally noticed him after years of pining and flirting and fleeting touches. Nick, who was strong, and pure, and good. A heavy guilt settled inside Greg, making his stomach ache and his head hurt even more.

"I made them all up." He whispered, surprised as a sudden, heady relief filled him, making fresh tears spring to his eyes even as the knot in his stomach eased. Am I finally getting better? Greg thought.

Am I finally making progress?