"Greg?" came a concerned voice next to him as he flashed out of his hallucinational flashback. He turned his head to the side to see James; his friend, the man who loved him. Greg smiled back, taking in a deep, shaking inward breath; raising his hands to his face to feel that he'd been crying. Still in his panicked state, not fully out of his thoughts and still half convinced that his Uncle Henry or his father were going to find him crying; he wrestled out of Wilson's grip, but Wilson just hung on tighter. Calming and holding him down, not letting him go; slowly trying to convince Greg it was safe; while being terrified of letting go himself, lest Greg fly away; "I'm not going anywhere, Greg, you're safe here with me,"

Blinking again, he looked around; this wasn't his childhood bedroom, or his childhood home; "where's mom?" he queried, panic starting to rise in his stomach.

James frowned back, "mom? As in your mom? Probably with your dad, at their home. It's okay baby, I've got you," and with a nodding head and shaking body, Greg relaxed again in James' arms and lent up against his chest, hearing the steady beat f his heartbeat and the gentle inhale and exhale of steady breathing, calming Greg, bringing him down.

Greg nodded into James' chest and sniffled back the last physical remnants of his breakaway from his current reality. Deep breath in and out. James played through his curls as Greg's breath hitched, but no more emotion came out from him, "it's okay to cry, you know?" James glanced down at him.

Shaking his head, "no, no, it's not," and then spoke no more; opting instead to simply cuddle in, listen to his breathing and heartbeat, and hold on to James like he might fly away and leave Greg cold, alone and vulnerable. For what it was worth, James was holding on to Greg just as tightly; his head leant back against the headboard; tears forming and then falling silently as he imagined what battles and demons Greg must be fighting behind his shield of bravado. Eventually, they both fell asleep; holding one another as if the other were a piece of driftwood in a river of raging rapids in which they were both drowning.

"Greg," morning came, and James was not feeling 100% given the previous night's events; and he imagined Greg wasn't feeling in tip top shape either; James had rung Cuddy and explained that he was at House's for dinner the night before and they'd both fallen ill; possibly from the food but would both need a day off. Cuddy had sounded suspicious; but for her part, hadn't asked any prying questions.

"Hmm," Greg mumbled, then groaned; all the activity of last night without adjusting his Vicodin usage was taking its toll on his leg now. He rolled over and popped a couple of Vicodin, dry swallowing them and then mumbling under his breath about going back to sleep.

"Greg, we need to talk, and I want to do it now; before anything more happens," James stated in a matter-of-fact fashion.

"What? What do you mean?" this had absolutely caught Greg's attention as he sat up and turned to face his lover; his eyes brimming with fear and his mind running through millions of scenarios; none of them good.

"About what happened last night," James began, and Greg visibly gulped; oh God.

"James, I'm so sorry, here we can go again, do you want to go again?" Greg leant forward to kiss James, but he pulled back and away.

"No, we need to talk about what happened afterwards; you went into some kind of dissociative fugue state, and it was really scary,"

Greg made a dismissive noise and waved his hand; "I was probably just overtired, James," he sighed.

"No, you weren't. You were asking where your mom was, Greg! I just need you to be honest with me, I'm not going to judge you; but if we're going to have a relationship, then I've got to know. What on Earth happened?" James cried, "because as it stands now, I can't help but think that it was somehow me that did this to you!"

And so, Greg recounted some of the story from his altered state the night before; leaving James fuming and pacing as he heard the retelling. "I'm going to kill him," he growled; "both Henry and your dad,"

"James, I've let it go," Greg muttered, grabbing his cane and leaving the room.

"To hell you have! Even Foreman-" James stopped himself a second too late.

"Foreman? What about Foreman?" Greg questioned, spinning around as quickly as his crippled body could.

James sighed and shook his head; "he came into my office yesterday to ask me… to ask if I knew that you had been abused, sexually, as a child. Some comment you made to Cameron about your 'funny uncle'. I guess I know now," he walked forward and placed his hands on Greg's shoulders; "but no matter what happened to you, what they or anyone else did to you- I will always love you and be there for you. I will never, ever leave or abandon you. I promise,"

Tears prickled both of their eyes as they embraced one another in a long, meaningful hug; just holding each other for a couple of minutes as tears of relief, sadness, trauma, heartbreak, and love fell down both of their faces.

Neither one heard the phone ring until the voice mail picked up; "hi Greg, it's mom. Your aunt Sarah and Uncle Henry have invited your dad and I, and you too of course; to spend a few days out on the ranch. I…. -we- would love to see you darling. Tell your friend Wilson that he's welcome to come along too. Okay, I'll talk to you soon. I love you Greg," followed by a click, and then for a moment, like the fabled calm before the storm; you could have heard a pin drop from anywhere in the apartment as Greg and James both stared in shock at the answering machine perched, seemingly innocently, on the bench.