Never Too Late, Chapter 3

[maddieamazing.livejournal.com]

Title: Never Too Late

Chapter: Three

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Author's note: Admittedly, this chapter is a little on the depressing side. But the next

chapter is happier, I promise. Thank you all, so much, for reading.

Previous chapters can be found by derangedly searching through other fics in this community until such time I become technologically advanced enough to figure out how to post them here. :)             

          

            A quick trip home had turned out to be just what the doctor ordered. Greg couldn’t help it, as lame as it was, seeing his mother always made him feel better. Seeing his father didn’t hurt either. Seeing his grandparents and cousins and old friends were all added benefits.

            Seeing his ex was something he could have lived without.

            Inevitably, six years after a horrible diagnoses and a very unpleasant break-up, the universe would force Greg and Liam together again somehow. And, as is this cruel, cruel universe, it did. Out one night with a few college buddies, Greg and his friends sat down at a crowded booth next to a voice that sounded oddly familiar. It wasn’t until his friend, Alex, whispered, “Hey Greg, is that Liam?” that he realized he was about to face his first confrontation with the man who cheated on him, lied to him, deceived him, and eventually was single-handedly responsible for the diagnosis that almost threatened to derail his entire life. Almost.

            “Greg!” Liam finally said once he spotted Greg on his way out of the bar. He awkwardly reached out his hand to shake Greg’s, but when Greg didn’t respond, he instead just gave him an uncomfortable pat on the shoulder. “What brings you here, man?”

            “Just visiting,” Greg responded, with not one ounce of perceived kindness.

            Liam half-smiled and nodded his head, and Greg was relieved to see that he seemed to get the point and was about to walk away, before a tall, muscular blonde man in jeans and a white muscle shirt came up behind Liam and possessively placed two gigantic hands on his shoulders.

            “Who’s your friend?” The behemoth man whispered confrontationally in Liam’s ear.

            “Babe…this is Greg,” Liam pointed uncertainly at Greg who refused to show any emotion on his stoic face. “Greg, this is Jeremy.”

            Jeremy…Jeremy…the name rang a bell. Right, Greg realized slowly, agonizingly recalling the conversation.

            “What is his name?!” Greg had shouted so loudly neighbors in other houses could probably hear.

            “What does it matter Greg? I love y-”

            “It matters because I just found out whoever it is has ruined my life! And don’t you fucking dare say you love me!” Greg was fuming, his whole body so angry it was probably hot to the touch.

            “Fine, Greg. His name is Jeremy.”

            Greg’s hands shook, his face red and hot and sweaty. “Don’t be here tomorrow between noon and two so I can get my stuff and eliminate you from my life.”

            Greg just nodded at the man behind his once lover; the man he once thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

            “You guys should go,” Alex said, standing up to prove his point. Alex was the type of guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but at six foot seven and almost three-hundred pounds, he was not the type of person you wanted to mess with, either.

            Liam gave a small parting smile to Greg before grabbing his angry boyfriend’s hand and leading them both out of the bar.

            Greg took a deep breath, thanked his friend, and then promptly ordered three rounds of Tequila for the table.

 

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            “G, how was the trip home, man?” Nick caught up to Greg in the parking lot and playfully slapped him on the back.

            Nick’s touch, even so innocently, sent shivers down his spine.

            “It was good, nice to get away. How were things around here?”

            Nick shrugged. “Busy, as always. Nothing new.”

            The men walked inside and to the break room with easy banter. Grissom gave out cases, a murder in a cheap apartment complex about thirty miles from the lab – seemed to be drug related – and a body dump on private ranch property just outside city limits, an assault on the strip, nothing earth-shattering.

            “Greg,” Grissom announced after assigning the apartment-homicide to Catherine and Nick and the body dump to Warrick and Sara. “You’re going with Nick and Catherine.”

            Greg tried to hide his smile, but failed. Grissom had only recently assigned him to homicides, which Greg knew was a sign that Grissom was beginning to trust him.

            “Alright, ready to go, Greggo?” Catherine asked in her usual, motherly tone.

            Greg nodded.

 

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            He was happy to be working actual crimes, he really was, but he was still having a bit of trouble adjusting to the smell of a decomposing body. His colleagues had assured him you get used to it after a while and it begins to seem less potent, but at the current moment, in a dark, untidy, unclean apartment, the only thing Greg felt was disgust and nausea.

            “How did the neighbors not notice the smell sooner?” Greg asked no one in particular, covering his nose with the back of his hand.

            “Too high, too stupid, who knows,” Nick answered from the right corner of the room where he was processing the body.

            “Broken glass by the window,” Catherine observed aloud. “Looks like this was a break-in. Greg, do me a favor and process this while I talk to the neighbors?”

            “Will do,” He responded, kneeling down in front of the window where the glass was scattered in uneven pieces on the floor. He began photographing it before picking up a shard to bag for trace.

            “Ow! Fuck!” The large shard slipped from his gloved fingers, cleanly slicing through the latex and his skin. Warm red liquid began to spill from it and he instinctively pulled his hand towards his chest.

            “Everything okay over there, G?” Nick asked, standing up and looking over Greg’s shoulder.

            “Yeah,” he answered quickly. “Just cut myself on the glass is all. I'm fine.”

            When he stood up with the intent to locate a bandage, he startled at how close Nick was to him. His body wash or cologne or deodorant or whatever the hell it was that made Nick smell so damn good assaulted Greg’s nose.

            “Let me take a look,” Nick said, reaching out his hands to grab Greg’s.

            “Don’t,” Greg half-shouted instantly, pulling his hand away. Embarrassed and noticing the surprised expression on Nick’s face, he smiled warmly. “I mean…evidence purposes or something, right?”

            Nick just nodded, a little stunned at how insistent Greg was.

            “I’m going to go find a band-aid,” Greg muttered, leaving the crime scene for the first aid kit in the truck. “Don’t touch the glass…I’ll clean it up when I get back.”

            Greg had learned quickly to treat his body like a touch-sensitive bomb. The horrid months following his diagnosis, he was afraid to get close to anyone, like just hugging them or shaking their hand, or even casually brushing against someone in a busy mall could somehow infect someone else. First it was because he was ashamed of himself, he felt dirty and contaminated. Then it became an easy way to prevent people from getting too close, both physically and emotionally. Finally, within the past few years when life had returned almost to normal and Greg was a self-proclaimed expert at living with his disease, he knew that, scientifically, he could be around people and touch people and get close to people and they’d be fine. Still, he treated his blood like burning lava, and though he knew he was overly cautious, he couldn’t help himself.

            Nick, however, seemed to see it differently, because sitting in an unusually awkward silence on the car ride back to the lab that seemed to take forever, Nick just seemed…hurt. Confused and hurt, and it hurt Greg to see Nick unhappy.

            “Nick, back at the scene…”

            Nick glanced at him quickly, almost trying to pretend he didn’t know what Greg was talking about.

            “I’m sorry,” Greg mumbled. “Don’t take it personally…please…I just…”

            “Didn’t want me to touch you?” Nick asked, trying to maintain a light, joking tone but failing.

            Greg shook his head. “No, Nick, it's not like that.”

            “It’s fine, Greg,” Nick shrugged. “I understand.”

            Greg was far from convinced, and opened his mouth to say something – anything – before that damn, obnoxious alarm sounded from the phone in his pocket. He quickly silenced it, hoping Nick would think nothing of it. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, twelve noon again, and again he wondered when night shifts became so…day-like.

            Nick seemed as if he wanted to say something to Greg, but before he could, Nick’s phone rang and he answered it with a familiar, “Stokes”.

          Saved by the bell, Greg thought, heaving a small sigh of relief.

There were times, especially with Nick, when Greg desperately wanted to tell him everything. And there were times when he came very, very close to doing so. But something, some sort of alarm in the back of his head, always went off. That alarm always alerted him to the fact that, no matter how much he wanted, needed someone in Vegas to know the truth about him, no one ever would. He couldn’t have what he wanted and needed so badly because he, himself, was still learning how to deal with his own life; he wasn’t about to drag anyone else into it. Not when that someone else was the man he wanted so badly, and knew he could never have. Not when that someone else was so dangerously close to being too close to Greg.

Sometimes, though, his heart wouldn’t shut up long enough for his logical brain to catch up to it, and in those moments, what he wanted still had some validity.

 

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            “It’s not a death sentence anymore, Greg. It doesn’t mean you aren’t going to live a long, happy and healthy life.”

            Yes it did, Greg thought. That’s exactly what it meant. The middle aged doctor with the beard sitting across from him in a brick-colored office may have had the credentials, the degree, the knowledge, but Greg simply knew that he was not going to be the same from that point on. He was never going to be the same. How could he?

 

            Millions of thoughts rushed through his brain. How? When? Why? What did this mean for his career, his life, his future? And, oh God, what did this mean for any dreams of love and a family and cliché picket fences?

            He may not die tomorrow or the next day, or even in the next many years. But it was too late, because something inside of Greg was already dead.

Comments

[maldeluxx.livejournal.com]

Oh poor Greg *hugs him* He should tell Nick, I think he would understand :(

[cindyls1969.livejournal.com]

Aww, so sad. Poor Greg, I can imagine that's how it really is for so many people living with this. Awesome chapter.

[burrollie.livejournal.com]

I just want to grab Greg and give him a comforting hug! And poor Nick! To think Greg doesn't want to be touched by him. Greg should tell Nick everything; the sooner the better.

Great chapter. I'm looking forward to more! :)

[cmali.livejournal.com]

I am thrilled you are writing this. It is definitely subject matter that needs to be addressed and not just by the gay community. Excellent job so far, darling. Keep it up!

[sastiel.livejournal.com]

This was very sad, I really feel for Greg and Nick. Poor bb's!
Lovely chapter hon!