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[just1tearforme.livejournal.com]

Nerd Gone Wild
Chapter 15: Find Comfort in Pain
PG13/R, 3811 words
100% previously disclaimed.
Previous Chapter: Chapter 14: Every Swallow Kills
a/n: Told you it wouldn't be two months between updates. And yes, that is a 3 in front of the 8, 1, and 1.

Chapter 15: Find Comfort in Pain
 

He watched Greg sleeping, tossing about on the couch. They cried for a long time, clutching one another and pouring out all the emotions of the last few hours. They had sunk to the floor, Nick crying softly and Greg sobbing heartbreakingly. The tears had wracked his body hard, muscles spasming so much he started heaving. Nick had helped him to the bathroom, not minding the destruction there and rubbed his back as he leaned over and retched. There was very little that came up but it was obvious the heaves hurt, he sobbed more piteously. All he could do was pull him into his arms and hold him like a child murmuring nonsensical words to soothe him. As he held him close, his head against his chest and tucked beneath his chin, he did something very rare, he prayed. Momma and Dad were Catholic, they raised him and his siblings that way. But it was Nana Jean, his grandma Stokes, who had taught him to pray. He had only prayed a few times in his adult life, he could count them on his fingers. The last time he prayed was several months ago, locked in a Plexiglas box praying alternately not to die and for the strength to pull the trigger. This time he prayed not for himself but for Greg, he prayed that he would be able to be put back together. He prayed that the damage done would not have completely destroyed him. And he prayed for God’s mercy. He prayed Our Father… who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name… Hail Mary full of grace, blessed Maria… He prayed to nameless faceless higher beings, whoever would listen, might listen to his pleas and begging.

Greg’s crying and sobs had stopped abruptly, he had passed out, the physical and emotional exertion taking toll on a weak looking body. He was so skinny; he wondered when he had eaten last, if he could even remember when that was. Like a child, he had picked him up, one arm beneath his knees and the other around his back under his arms and carried him to the living room. While he righted the couch, he had set him in the oversize chair, the only furniture untouched in the destruction. He would have put him in his bed but he didn’t know if there were any surprises hidden in there, he needed to keep an eye on him. He smoothed his hair before pulling a blanket over his sleeping form. The blood clotted and scabbed over cuts on his arms concerned him, they needed to be cleaned and bandaged but that would wait until his was awake. He wanted to talk to him about them anyways. Looking around, he sighed, the apartment looked like it had been hit by a hurricane, followed by an earthquake, finished off with a stampede of raging elephants and it had to be dealt with. But first he needed to check if there was any more heroin stashed anywhere in the house and then to have an awkward phone call.

However, the phone call wasn’t as awkward as he anticipated. Grissom answered on the first ring with a quick greeting and then put him on hold for several minutes. When he came back he had asked “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here at Greg’s, and Gris, he’s in bad shape.” He had said, tears springing forth in his eyes. He swallowed harshly, not wanting to cry while talking to his supervisor. “He needs help Gris and I’m scared to leave him alone. I know I took a lot of time off after, well, you know and I’m sure I’ve probably used up all the time off – But I have to ask anyway. It’s okay if you say no…”

“I’m sorry to hear about your sister, I understand you have to get there right away. Take all the time you need. I’ll make certain all the paperwork is filed in your absence.”

“What are you on about? Grissom?”

“Yes, I’ll let Ecklie know right away. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it; it is a family emergency after all. Yes, yes I’ll drop off the file you left in my office. Okay, I’ll talk to you soon, and keep me posted.”

When he hung up, Nick could only snicker. Even in the face of serious issues Grissom still stuck it to Ecklie, while he was in the room nonetheless. He owed him big time, maybe some chocolate grasshoppers and a case of scotch would do it. If not he could probably get Archie to create some interesting pictures of Ecklie getting attacked by bugs or something. He sighed heavily, there was a weight lifted off his shoulders, Gris at least knew something was wrong and would look out for them on that end of the spectrum. He could concentrate on Greg and helping him out, getting him as back to even keel as possible. He knows that getting Greg back to the way he was before would not happen. There was no going back, things had changed, they all had changed irrevocably and would have to build from those changes. It would be difficult, for they would have to remember just who they were before. He knew who Greg was, however it was his perception of who Greg was, he obviously didn’t know Greg. He would have to learn who Greg is; get to know him as himself not Greg as Nick knows him. But he also had to wonder if he really know himself either. If he experienced everything Greg did, could he say he wouldn’t turn to drugs or alcohol himself? Or worse? Of course he didn’t know everything that had occurred, but what he did know wasn’t enough to determine what he would or wouldn’t do.

He sighed, lowering himself to the floor carefully besides the couch. Deftly, he recovered Greg with the blanket; he had dislodged it by shifting position. He was curled up on his side loosely in fetal position, limbs moving every once in a while and lips forming words only he knew. With feather light touch he ghosted a fingertip, tracing the lines etched in the forearm that peeked out. He sighed, the corners of his mouth turning down as he followed the raised design. He stopped himself as they disappeared beneath the covering, there wasn’t a need to continue, he knew they were there. Hands moved to his face, Nick tucked a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. The gesture turning towards a caress as his touch meandered over his brow and down across his cheekbone. His fingers shook as he held them over but not touching his pale and too thin lips, following the contours and feeling the soft puff of hot breath against the fingerpads. He laid his head on the couch, faces parallel. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I am.”

Nick sat there, watching Greg long past when his back began to ache, beyond his shoulders cramping from hunching over, and long after he lost all feeling in his butt and thighs. Gazing upon his face as eyes fluttered in the depths of REM sleep on the wings of scattered dreams that forced him to speak words only he could comprehend. The long lashes resting against the backdrop of sallow cheek fluttered once, twice before the lids parted just a sliver. They focused on him blearily, cloudy and still dusted with sleep. “Hey,” he whispered, trying not to disturb the quiet pall. “How are you feeling?”

He exhaled forcefully, “I don’t know,” he replied voice rough and cracking.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to have an answer.” He smiled ruefully. “Sometimes, it’s just not important.” The brown eyes shifted, unfocused and drifted close for a moment. “It’s alright,” he said as they struggled to reopen. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He had to hide in the bathroom, so there was no chance Greg could hear his sobs. Nick barely had the door closed before the tears rained pell-mell down his cheeks. Loosely, he covered his mouth as if trying to restrain the hiccupping sobs as he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. He didn’t know if he had the strength to do this. But he didn’t have to strength to abandon him either. Nor could he think of anyone who would take his place. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, he willed himself to breathe deeply, count to ten then exhale in rhythm. He let his eyes close as he concentrated on the cadence of his breath and heart. He could hear Dr. Knight’s voice in his head instructing him in calming, centering, and meditating. As his breathing and heart rate fell into even tempo, he opened his eyes feeling less unstrung than he had minutes ago. Somehow, he felt he would be doing this often. It was either that or slowly go mad.

He cleaned up the bathroom, using the term clean loosely, cleaning in this case meaning taking everything on the floor and shoving it into the under sink cupboards. The pills were all gathered up into a Ziploc for sorting later, however the ibuprofen was separated as he knew it would be needed soon, most likely once Greg woke. He had already taken two so far himself for a headache building steadily behind his eyes. The rest of the apartment needed serious cleaning as well but it would wait until Greg could help him. However, he did venture into the bedroom, still marveling at the beautiful mini lights that were undamaged. The torn curtains were completely pulled down and shoved in a corner in a ball. Clean sheets he found in the closet, they were soft and worn almost threadbare in places, obviously well used over the years. With new sheets and righted bed covers, the large bed was incredibly inviting and he did want to heed its call but it one: wouldn’t be fair to sleep with Greg out on the couch, and two: he was getting hungry if the gnawing feeling of his stomach that was trying to go through his spine was any indication. He avowed to listen to the siren call later, something that would be met with open arms and blissful snores.

The state of the kitchen left much to be desired, but Nick could at least use the various accoutrements to make grilled cheese and soup. It wasn’t precisely soup, chicken broth with rice, made because his momma made it when he was sick or feeling depressed. He set two mugs on the end table, before fetching his sandwich. Gently, he touched Greg’s shoulder, shaking it softly to wake. “You need to eat,” he told the bleary eyed blanket monster. “I’ve made you some rice and broth. I don’t know when you ate last but it won’t upset your stomach regardless.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. He accepted the mug handed to him, wrapping his hands around it and breathed the steam in.

Nick had the urge to let a sarcastic comment roll off his tongue, but it might not be accepted as humour. “It’s okay isn’t it? Not too hot for you?” He could see the small shakes traveling through his body.

“Is fine.” He took a sip. “See? Just cold and shaking is all.”

He plucked the mug from his grasp, a soft cry of surprise tumbled from him. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, he pulled him flush against his body and carefully tucked the blanket around the both of them. “Turn towards me would you?” he said. He helped Greg bring his legs over one thigh and stick his feet beneath the other to warm them. The steaming mug was returned to his possession, which he accepted gratefully. Resting his head against his shoulder, he took small sips, slurping every so often while he crunched on the toasty sandwich. They sat in silence, slowly eating their respective meals, only the warm of their bodies passing between themselves.

“Greg?” he asked, long after the food had been consumed.

“Mmm?” was the half conscious reply.

“Do you want to lie down some more? Try to sleep?” The shaking had grown steadily, a product of the beginnings of withdrawal rather than internal temperature. He nodded in assent, Nick feeling the sliding tickle of hair against his chin and throat rather than seeing it. “Detour to the bathroom first though, those cuts should be cleaned and dressed.” He maneuvered the young man from his contorted posture so they could both stand. The blanket was left wrapped around him and he guided him to the bathroom. As he sat him on the toilet lid, déjà vu swept over him, they had done this once before, bandaging wounds on the arm nonetheless. The sink filled with hot water, as he carefully exposed one arm setting it on top of a towel so the blanket wouldn’t get wet. The washcloth was soaked and then rung out, the soft terry wiped down over the flesh removing traces of blood and leaving pink skin. It was dipped in the water and rung again, retracing the lines that were stubborn in releasing the dried blood, and catching the blood that trickled out of scabs unintentionally opened. He patted dry the arm, some of the edges of the cuts were pink. He rummaged through the mess beneath the sink, retrieving a bottle of alcohol and some cotton balls. Greg tensed, pulling his arm back as the alcohol stung. “Sorry,” he offered in half apology. He blew on the liquid to make it evaporate faster, the stream of air making the hairs on his forearm lay flat. The worst of the cuts received antibiotic ointment and band-aids. The lines would mark him for a while, some would even scar, there was nothing he could do about that. He repeated the process on the other arm. When it came to his hand, he uncurled the fingers deftly, exposing the gash. With light strokes he ran the washcloth across the wound. He blew on the alcohol, liberally coated across the injury, holding his fingers to prevent him from pulling way even though it hurt. He ran his fingertips across the palm feather light before he applied the gauze and sealed the makeshift bandage. Carefully, he curled the fingers over enfolding the hand in his.

He leaned forward, sliding to the edge of his seat. Leaning in, he rested his forehead against Nick’s. He wrapped both arms around him. “Thank you for being here.” He whispered.

Fiercely he returned the embrace. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

Helping Greg into bed was easy; he just kind of tumbled in and rolled across the mattress. He had started tucking him in when his hand grasped his and asked him to stay. Pockets emptied out and shoes beside the bed, he climbed in beside him, drawing up the covers. Quietly, he had asked to lie next to him. At first he nodded, but then replied as he was reminded by the disembodied voice of his Nana, that ‘you can’t hear a nod.’ Greg curled to his side, body stretched along the length of his, and one leg bent over his. His head lay upon his chest, ear pressed to listen to the cadence of his heartbeat. He had entwined their fingers, resting them upon his waist, the weight of his arm draped across his back. There was no want to move, pressed together and comfortable.

“I know why I did it.” He said quietly, after a long period of silence.

“Hmm?”

“Existing just hurt too much.” He swallowed. “I just felt way too much, and couldn’t stop. Everything was different after becoming a CSI. Seeing evidence objectively in a lab was one thing, but connecting with the human side, that was way too much. That kid in the plastic tote box? I felt so sick afterwards, how could someone do that? How could anyone hurt a child like that? I cried that night; locked myself in a bathroom at CSI and bawled. And when Grissom sent me to collect evidence from the burned woman… I didn’t think I could breathe; I wanted to throw up so badly. Seeing her, my back and shoulders hurt so much, like it was happening all over. I swore I could feel the heat and glass in my skin. I wondered – wondered how he could send me there? And when they cut off her fingers… That could have been me…” He sniffled, choking down tears. “If I had been any closer or turned just a bit differently – You would be collecting parts from me. The doctor assured me she wasn’t in any pain; the nerve endings were too damaged to register sensation. But I knew better, there would be agony later. I knew exactly what she would go through. I couldn’t see her as a victim, no matter how objective I should have been. Similar experiences bound us as kin. And then there was you.” He curled deeper into him. “You in that goddamn box, where we could only watch. You struggled so hard, and I couldn’t do anything. I’ve never felt so useless before. That’s when I started using again.”

He sniffled loudly, body shaking with silent tears and symptoms of withdrawal. “For the first time in a long while I felt like I had some control. I could look at anything and not feel from it. I don’t think I would have made it through the search if I hadn’t done a hit. I can’t see how. I was using every few days after that, whenever things got too heavy. It made it easier to deal, took everything away and left me with some version of happy. It wasn’t ever much, just enough to take the edge off. Until-”

“Until the warehouse party.” Nick supplied.

“Yeah, that night I wanted nothing more than to feel. Vast and seemingly limitless quantities of alcohol, sex, and drugs. I was guaranteed to feel something. It wasn’t good though. There was death, too much death. I remember everything from the night. I watched her die, Sophie. Held her even, before… before she fell. We were on the top level, when we fell I grabbed onto her. Held onto her after everything collapsed. She looked me in the eye and then slipped… she bounced, once. She died with her eyes open, I remember, because I could see them as I fell too. I still see them, but I see her too, and others. The heroin made them go away. I didn’t have to see their accusing eyes, wondering why I lived and they had died. I didn’t have to watch them die again and again. Didn’t have to wonder why I was spared and be reminded how close I came to becoming one of the fallen. For a time I didn’t have to care, or think, or be anything. Existing was just easier that way.” He disseminated into tears, soaking his shirt and skin.

Tearfully, Nick held him closer. He knew how Greg felt. “When I was little, a babysitter molested me. I never told anyone till many years ago, I didn’t – couldn’t know how to handle it. Now every time I see a kid, I feel like I did so long ago when I lay in my bed sobbing and wondering why. Sometimes you die a little more inside. When Nigel Crane stalked me, I could only think why me? What made me so special? You know, I wasn’t scared to die; I just didn’t think I could live. I went to a hotel after he was arrested; I wasn’t going stay there though not for long. I sat on the floor, back to the wall removing bullets from my clip until there were only two. One to do the job, the other in case the first failed. The barrel pressed against my head seven times, but I couldn’t ever pull the trigger. I couldn’t deal with what happened, and I couldn’t make myself permanently fix anything.”

He wiped his nose on a sleeve. “And then there was the box… When you found me I was beyond desperate. The bites and venom from the ants killed me, but what hurt worse? I was going to die without oxygen, alone. No one would ever know I had gone, where it had happened, or how it was as I lay dying. I was going to pull the trigger; there wasn’t any way I wanted to spend my last three minutes gasping. I had prayed while I was in there, for God to get me out or give me the strength. It was the strength that found me; He had obviously listened to my prayers. But then you found me, and told me I still might die. I nearly pulled the trigger right then.”

“What stopped you?” he snuffled.

“It was -” He turned on his side, face just inches from his. “It was that you would all have to live with what I’d done. I couldn’t find any reason to pass my pain onto you, make you suffer from it like I had. It hurts to exist some times. Hurts a lot. Hurts every damn day. Not a day goes by that I don’t I wonder if this won’t be the day that finally pushes me over. If it will be tomorrow you’re scraping my brains off a wall, packaging my body up in plastic, and covering the ceiling with Luminol to see how big a spatter I made.” He pulled him closer, like he was trying to absorb him into his skin. “I’m still trying to find reasons not to. It’s not easy you know. I’m just as fucked up as you. You just showed it better…”

Silence danced between them, uncounted in minutes. Measured only in the puff of exhaled breath, and the pulse of blood.

“Hey Nick?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Could you help me? Be your reason?” His fingers tightened their entwinement, like he was clinging to him.

“I think we could try.”

“And -” He sighed and looked up at him beneath tear rimmed lashes. “Be there for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Always?” Promise?

“Even if you do something stupid.” Gently, he grazed his lips over his forehead, in the lightest of kisses.

He cuddled closer, tucking his head beneath his chin, their bodies pressed together without a molecule of space between. He felt warm in his arms, and just a little less heavy. The dull thump, thump of his heart murmured in his ear, he could feel his breathing slowing to match his. “Thanks.” He whispered, and closed his eyes.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

awesome fic. just reread all of it! yay posting another chapter!

[staticdisturbed.livejournal.com]

I feel so reassured knowing Greg isn't alone anymore. It's like you can take a deep breath of relief cause you know Nick will be there.

[mexiraz.livejournal.com]

“Could you help me? Be your reason?"

I think my heart has melted...
This story is sooo good, it's addictive!
It's difficult to find the words to explain what I'm thinking, the part in which Nick and Greg are in the bed it's so heartbroking but in the end is so full of hope.
You're wonderful, as usual. I hope the boys will be better..
*pets them while they're sleeping and runs to you to offer chocolate*

[xcorkyx.livejournal.com]

I am in love with this fic, never stop writting


XXX

Corky

[realm-of-red.livejournal.com]

Wow, another great chapter! I'm so glad that Nick was there for Greg, and that Greg started to talk about why he was using again. I'm very curious as to how this story will play out! Great work!!!!!!!

[anmani.livejournal.com]

Wow. That was a really emotional chapter with them both talking about all the heartache.
I'm curious to see how things work out for them in the future.
This is a fantastic series.
/A

[shacky20.livejournal.com]

Oh My!!!! You know you have so made my day by posting more. Now excuse me for a moment while I climb up here, when are you gonna post this over at nickngreg.com??? HUM????? I've been waiting and waiting, and I can do it for you if you want me to, puh-luze , you know how much I love this fic, I mean, I've loved it from the beginning, and please, don't make me beg, I will, but it would be ugly and all and I'd cry and you really don't want to see me cry, so not cute. OK, climbing down now. And off to go read, yeah!!!!

[brandinsbabe.livejournal.com]

OHMYGOD i am so excited for this!! you should have seen me jump up out of my chair and go woohoo!! (i'm a dork ;) ive been so unbelievably hooked on this fic! i feel like its christmas!!! hehe :D
*runs off to read*

[ohmygah-x.livejournal.com]

Oh, no! This is chapter fifteen *gasps*. I want to read the whole thing =( Where are all the other chapters?

[just1tearforme.livejournal.com]

You can now find all the chapters written over at www.nickandgreg.com , or in the memories on my lj.

[ohmygah-x.livejournal.com]

Thanks! *Goes off to read...*