A/N: Hey people! The plot bunnies keep coming (but reviews don't) and this is the latest, written for a challenge by your_muffin on LJ. I don't own anything but I'm illand I'dlike someone to tell me what they think. Plz?

If we were a movie

by: achildwithbloodstaineddagger.

Abusive relationships- two words, two words that can shatter someone’s life. What does that make you think about? Six months ago I would have answered battered women and stuff along those lines, yet now my best friend springs in my mind, the love of my life. He was a young man, not a woman, he was a sweet, loving man and as much as it sounds like I’m describing my dog or something, he was someone who as much as you yelled at would love you forever. His name? Greg Sanders.

He wasn’t weak minded, he wasn’t easy to control yet those two words describe what he ended up in. I’m not a great story teller, it’s not even my story but I’ll still tell it to you, because you need to know how this happened. I’m Nick Stokes, the fool that pushed him the twisted, evil arms that landed us all in the position we are in now. I hope you’ll listen to this story, or written version of memory lane, till we reach were I am now. It won’t be like in the movies, it won’t be full of fluffy bunnies and fairies but it will be completely and utterly true.

Sitting comfortably? Then my story begins on April the sixteenth, the day I tried to sort out what we knew was wrong- or at least what we thought we knew.

April 16th.

I sat next to Sara.
“Is he okay?” She whispered as she nodded towards Greg, “He’s awfully jumpy.”
“I know.” I whispered back, “Have you seen the bruises?”
“Which ones?” She asked flicking some of her hair over her shoulder, “When was the last time he spoke to anyone without anyone speaking to him first?”
“Forty days.” I told her.
“Have you been counting?” She asked smirking, “You really have it bad.”
“Have what?” I asked, pretending to be confused.
“You know.” She smiled, “I’m worried for him.”
“Me too.” I admitted, still staring at the bruise on the side of his face that he got from ‘walking into a door.’
“Maybe you should talk to him.” She suggested, “He always speaks to you.”
“He used to.” I sighed, “Yet he barely speaks to anyone since he got together with him.” I snarled the last bit, Sara, Catherine and I never said his name since we started guessing what was happening with him and Greg.
“Fine.” I sighed again before walking over to Greg.

“Hey, Greg.” I smiled as I pulled a headphone out of his ear.
“Hey.” He whispered, his smile completely false.
“How are you?” I asked casually as I sat next to him.
“The same I was...” He looked at his watch, “Half an hour ago.”
“Sorry, it’s just...” I couldn’t get the words I, care, about and you out of my lips so I said, “You look really down mate.”
He shrugged, “Tired.” He looked up as he said that, his eyes avoiding mine like they did when he lied or twisted the truth.
I gave him a serious look, “How did you get that bruise?” I pointed to the one on his face that looked like he’d been slammed into a wall.
“Fell, you know me.” He shrugged again, “See yah.” He bounced towards the door.
I did the mistake of not following, yet I seemed to do that mistake a lot when it came to Greg.

Later Grissom gave us a case to work on together, just him and me. I saw him flinch when Grissom said we were working together and to be perfectly honest I knew why it was, part of it was the fact I wasn’t going to let anything slip by me and the other, more worrying part was the fact that it was an abusive relationship and this case caused us to work late.
“Why are you so nervous?” I asked as I looked up from the case files to his pale face, his large eyes focused on the pencil he’d been playing with.
“I’m late.” He muttered, almost to himself, something that seemed like fear glittered in his eyes.
“Late for what?” I asked concerned as I moved closer, “Greg look at me, why are you scared?”
“It-it doesn’t matter. You can’t help me.” A single tear ran down his face, “I’ll be fine.”
“Greg,” I sighed taking one of his hands in mine, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” He answered after about the longest five seconds in my life so far.
“Then tell me.” I pleaded.
Greg gave my hand a small glance and he jumped back, “I-I have to go. Bye Nicky.” I shivered at how he said the last bit, his voice shaking.
“Greggo!” I called after him as I ran behind him.

I followed him all the way to his car, yet (to what I thought at the time was my luck.) his engine was dead.
“No, no, no!” He cried out as he slammed his head on the steering wheel.
“I’ll give you a lift.” I offered, at the time not noticing the bruises on his neck or the amount his slim hands were shaking.
“Fine.” He muttered as he got out of the car, his hands shaking nervously as he fiddled with the zip of his jacket and he nibbled his lip as he moved into the passenger seat of my car.
“Are you...” I started off only to be cut off by him snapping.
“I’m fine Nick!” He snapped, his voice cold and sharp, “Why wouldn’t I be?” He still refused to look at me.
“Earlier you said you trust me,” I replied, “Are we not best friends?”
“Yes Nick.” He muttered as I started driving.
“So tell me what’s wrong!” I snapped, causing him to flinch. “Greg, please. You flinch every single bloody time someone raises their voices or slams something; you looked like a scared kitten whenever you’re late... I’m not dumb Greg!”
He muttered something like ‘and don’t I know it...’ under his breath before looking me (finally) in the eyes, “Nicky, please trust me. Everything is going to be over soon.” I felt my heart speed up as I realized he was ending it with... him.
“Really?” I asked; my eyes on the road as I turned down the final road.
“Yeah, it’s all going to be over.” He whispered, more to himself than me, yet I was so distracted with everything I didn’t notice the pained look on his face till I thought about it days later.
“Good.” I nodded as I parked outside his house, “Do you want me to...”
“NO!” He interrupted, “I mean... I’ll be fine. It’s all ending.” He gave me a small, Sander smile, “Goodbye Nicky.” He closed the door behind himself as he headed up the main stairs to the main door, his eyes looking down at the cracked pavement.
Another thing I didn’t notice was how final his tone was, instead I smiled, “Good luck G.” I slowly drove away, willing him to have the strength to get the hell away from the loser.

It took about ten minuets for me to get home, only to find I still shivered at how empty it felt. I kicked my shoes off and went to watch some television, forgetting to turn my house and mobile phones off silent. I was asleep in seconds, never hearing the small buzzing from my bag that lay on the ground near the door...

Should I continue? Let me know via the green button. Plz? ^_^