Status: Complete Archive: If you really want to, but i would appreciate it everso if you told me.
Email: Series/sequel: Sequel to "le retour de Greg Sanders". Number three in "la vie, quelquefois elle peut etre injuste"
Disclaimer: I have no imagination, so i borrowed these characters. I also borrowed the lyrics from U2. Don't sue, I can't afford it... P.S. Oh yeah, I also don't own Marilyn Manson. aargh.
Spoliers: Only if you haven't read the first two stories in "la vie, quelquefois elle peut etre injuste"
Summary: Um... Greg gets really depressed, Nick tries to help him. That's about it.
A/N Every time the characters are thinking things, it's lyrics from U2 songs. To be more specific, Mr Sanders thinks the words to "One Step Closer" and "Love and peace or else". Mr Stokes thinks the words to "Sometimes you can't make it on your own". I did this 'cause I think Bono is better with words than I am...
A/N2, you probably shouldn't read this if you're in a depressed mood, 'cause it's kinda sad, and i don't want to make your mood worse...
Nick was in the AV lab, working with Archie on a case.
"I've got your murder on tape," said Archie.
"Let's see it," said Nick.
"It's pretty gruesome," said Archie.
"Maybe I'll leave it till later," said Nick.
"I do have some stills of your perp though," said Archie, handing Nick a brown folder.
"Good work Arch," said Nick, scanning through the pictures. "Thanks."
"No problem," said Archie.
Nick's pager went off. He looked at it, and heard a phone ringing across the hall.
Greg was working in the DNA lab. HIs CD player was going. "Kaboom" by Marilyn Manson. Greg got a hit for his DNA sample he was running through CODIS. He printed out the 'rap-sheet' and paged Nick.
The phone in the DNA lab rang. Greg flicked off his CD player, and picked up the phone.
"DNA lab. Sanders."
"Hello Greg," said the voice in the phone.
Greg instantly knew the voice, but he couldn't think where he recognised it from.
"Who is this?" asked Greg.
"Oh, I think you remember last time we met. That wasn't an encounter I'd forget in a rush. Do you remember the last time you were in a warehouse, Greg?"
Greg dropped the phone.
He remembered the voice.
He remembered the warehouse.
Greg retreated into the corner of the DNA lab, and shrank down the wall till he was curled up on the floor. He put his hands on his ears, and reassured himself that this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. There was no way. Not now.
Nick put his pager back in his pocket. "I gotta go."
"Sure," said Archie. "I'll just be here..."
"Cheer up," said Nick. He left the AV lab, and went across to the DNA lab. He didn't spot Greg at first.
"This isn't real. This isn't real."
"Greggo?!" said Nick, going over to Greg.
Greg didn't hear Nick, or notice him stood in front of him.
Nick put his folder down on the desk, and knelt down in front of the younger man. "Greggo?!"
"This isn't real. This isn't real."
Nick gently grabbed Greg's wrists, and pulled his hands away from his head. "Greg, look at me."
Greg looked up at Nick, and screamed.
"Hey, it's okay," said Nick.
"Make it stop," said Greg, quietly.
"Make what stop?" asked Nick, letting go of Greg's wrists.
Greg screamed again, and put his hands back on his ears. "Make it stop. Make it stop." He was pleading now.
"Greg," said Nick. "What's wrong?"
"He was on the phone," said Greg, slightly frantic. "He called me."
"Who did?" asked Nick. "Who called you?"
"Thomas Roberts," said Greg, his voice cracking. He tried to retreat into the corner some more, but there was a wall in his way.
Nick thought for a moment. Who was Thomas Roberts? Nick realised who he was. Thomas Roberts was the man who murdered Sara. The man who attacked Greg.
"It won't stop," said Greg, shaking his head.
"Ssh," said Nick, pulling Greg towards him, but Greg just screamed again, and pulled away. "Greg?"
"It won't stop," said Greg. "Make it stop."
"I wish I could," said Nick. He was madly trying to think of a way to calm Greg down, and reassure him. After a few seconds, he figured the best way to reassure and calm down Greg was to hold him, and talk to him. "Greg." He pulled Greg towards him again, and when Greg tried to pull away, he just held him tighter, unconsciously picking up on how skinny Greg was. "It's okay Greg. It's me- Nick. You're safe. It's okay. It's okay."
"Nick?" said Greg, quietly.
"Hey, Cath, you seen Greggo?" asked Nick.
"He said he was going up to the roof," said Catherine. "don't know why though."
"Okay," said Nick. "Thanks." He left the break room, and went up to the roof. Greg was sat near the edge, staring into the distance. Nick walked over to him, and leant his arms on the safety railings. "Thinking of jumping?"
"Hey," said Greg.
"Yeah, I just want to apologise for what i did," said Greg.
"No," said Nick. "I completely understand."
"That's no excuse," said Greg. "I shouldn't have freaked out like that. I'm sorry."
"Really, man, it's okay," said Nick. "Everybody freaks out sometimes."
"Not like that though," said Greg.
"Forget about it," said Nick.
Greg didn't say anything.
"Are you feeling alright, man? You seem kinda, i don't know-"
"I'm fine," said Greg, trying to sound fine, when even though he was far from it.
"I think you're hiding something," said Nick.
"I'm fine," said Greg. "Just drop it."
"I want to help you," said Nick, putting his hand on Greg's shoulder.
"When I want your help, I'll come and find you," said Greg, pulling away.
"Just leave me alone," said Greg, storming off, leaving Nick alone on the roof.
"I'm worried," said Nick.
"About?" asked Catherine.
"Greg," said Nick.
"He seems alright to me," said Catherine, signing the time sheet.
"Nah, i don't think he is," said Nick, signing his own name.
"How do you mean?" asked Catherine.
"I can't quite place my finger on it," said Nick, "I still don't think he's over Sara's murder."
"That was pretty hard on him," said Catherine. She knew she hadn't told Nick that Greg'd been raped, and she doubted Grissom and Warrick had either.
"Do you think he's losing weight?" asked Nick.
"He looks skinnier," said Nick.
"I don't know," said Catherine. "I guess he could have, maybe. Have you spoken to him about this?"
"I tried," said Nick.
"What did he say?" asked Catherine.
"He just snapped, and walked off," replied Nick.
"Maybe you should just drop it," suggested Catherine. "If he doesn't want to talk-"
"Yeah," said Nick, unlocking his car. "He knows where I am."
"Exactly," said Catherine. "I'll see you tomorrow, Nicky."
Greg was at home, he was trying to relax, but he couldn't concentrate. He was wound up. He flicked the TV onto standby and threw the remote across the room. It hit the wall, the batteries fell out, and he didn't bother picking them up. He decided he couldn't sit at home any longer, he needed some fresh air. He grabbed his jacket and his keys, and left his apartment. He needed to clear his head, and so went for a long walk.
I'm round the corner from anything that's real I'm across the road from hope I'm under a bridge in a rip tide That's taken everything I call my own
Greg walked up a big hill right on the edge of Vegas. There was a nice view from up there, it was a good place to just stare into the horizon and forget about everything.
I'm on an island at a busy intersection I can't go forward, I can't turn back Can't see the future It's getting away from me I just watch the tail lights glowing
Greg laid down on the grass, and stared up at the sky. It was dark, but it wasn't cold. Greg stared up at the moon. Stared at the stars.
I'm hanging out to dry With my old clothes Finger still red with the prick of an old rose Well the heart that hurts Is a heart that beats Can you hear the drummer slowing?
Nick was sat at home watching a movie with his girlfriend.
"How can you watch this rubbish?" he asked.
"Are you kidding me?! I love Jude Law films. He's got that whole cute british accent-"
"What's wrong with my accent?" asked Nick.
"Oh, I like your accent too-"
"But it's just not the same as Jude Law's?"
The doorbell rang.
Nick got up, glad to get away from the terrible movie, and answered it.
"Hey," said Greg. After gathering his thoughts, he'd headed to Nick's house.
I don't know if I can take it I'm not easy on my knees Here's my heart and you can break it I need some release, release
"What's up?" asked Nick.
I don't know if I can make it I'm not easy on my knees Here's my heart and you can break it I need some release, release
"I, er-" began Greg. He'd thought about everything he wanted to say to Nick, but now that he was actually staring him in the face, all the words had gone.
"Who's this?" asked a woman who'd appeared at the door, slipping her arm around Nick's waist.
Greg could tell this was Nick's girlfriend. He didn't know Nick was seeing someone, but then again, he and Nick hadn't been that close recently, at least not as close as they'd been in the past. "I should go."
"You're welcome to stay," said the brunette. "We're only watching a movie."
"No," said Greg. "I'll go."
At this, he turned around, and left.
"What's with him?"
"I wish I knew," said Nick.
Nick's girlfriend had gone to work, and so Nick was left alone by himself. He debated whether or not to phone Greg, but decided it would be better if he actually went round to see his friend. He grabbed his keys and drove round to Greg's apartment. He knocked on Greg's door, but nobody answered. Nick looked down the street. There was a silver passat parked there, Greg was definitely home.
Why wasn't he answering his door?
Nick peered through the living room window, and saw Greg, lying on the couch, with his eyes shut. On the side table was a bottle of pills. Nick cursed under his breath. He feared the worst. He tried the door handle, and it opened. He rushed over to Greg.
Greg was perfectly still.
"Greggo!" said Nick, shaking Greg. "Don't do this to me man! Come on! Wake up!"
Greg gasped, opened his eyes, and looked up at Nick.
Nick picked up the bottle of pills from the table. It was empty. He showed it to Greg. "How many?"
"Huh?" said Greg, rubbing his eyes.
"How many pills did you take?" asked Nick.
"Two," said Greg.
"Tell me the truth Greg," said Nick.
"I am," said Greg, sitting up. "Why don't you believe me?"
"This is serious," said Nick. "If you OD'd, you could die."
"Nick," said Greg. "You can't OD on two paracetemol. It's impossible."
"You sure you only took two?" asked Nick.
"Yes," said Greg.
"So why is the bottle empty?"
"They were the last two in there," said Greg. "I'm not one of your suspects, y'know, so don't treat me like one."
"Sorry," said Nick, putting down the empty bottle of pills. "I just thought you'd done something stupid."
"Do you think I'm suicidal?" asked Greg, standing up. He went over to his little kitchen, and got himself a glass of water.
"What sort of question is that?!" said Nick.
"Do you?" asked Greg.
"I don't know," said Nick.
"Nick!" said Greg, putting down his glass on the worktop.
"Well, you haven't exactly been yourself recently," said Nick.
"That may be true," said Greg, "but I'm not suicidal."
"Sure?" asked Nick.
"I can't believe you think I'm suicidal," said Greg.
"I'm just worried about you Greg."
"I don't know what to say to that."
"Talk to me," said Nick.
"And say what?" asked Greg, going back over to his sofa.
Nick sat down in the chair next to the window. "Tell me what's on your mind."
"I'm not really a good talker," said Greg.
"You used to be," said Nick.
"I used to be a lot of things," said Greg.
"What changed?" asked Nick.
"I don't know," said Greg.
Nick wanted to get Greg talking. He wanted to find out why he was so miserable. Greg was one of Nick's closest friends, more of a brother really. Nick really didn't like to see Greg unhappy, it made him unhappy too.
Tough, you think you've got the stuff You're telling me and everyone You're hard enough You don't have to put up a fight You don't have to always be right Let me take some of the punches For you tonight
"Is this all to do with Sara?" asked Nick.
Greg shook his head.
"What then?" asked Nick.
Listen to me I need to let you know You don't need to go it alone
"I don't want to talk about it," said Greg.
"Why not?" asked Nick.
"'Cause I'll just get upset," said Greg. "Can you just drop it?"
I know that we don't talk I'm sick of it all Can you hear me when I sing, you're the reason I sing You're the reason why the opera is in me
"Greg," said Nick. "I hate seeing you like this. I want to help, but I need you to talk to me."
"I don't need 'help'," said Greg.
And it's you when I look in the mirror And it's you that makes it hard to let go Sometimes you can't make it on your own Sometimes you can't make it The best you can do is to fake it Sometimes you can't make it on your own
"Don't be like that," said Nick. "I know you're hurting."
"How do you want me to be?" asked Greg.
"I don't know," said Nick. "The normal Greggo."
"I don't know what 'normal' is anymore," said Greg.
"How do you mean?" asked Nick.
"I don't know," said Greg. "I guess, just recently, I've not been myself. I guess maybe I've changed."
"Yeh," said Nick. "You seem kinda, I don't know, subdued."
"Thanks," said Greg.
"Are you sleeping okay?" asked Nick.
"No," said Greg. "I find it hard to get to sleep, and then when I do, I just have nightmares."
"About what?" asked Nick.
"What do you think?" asked Greg.
"I don't know," said Nick.
"Fine," said Greg. "Half the time it's Trace Hennessee, half the time it's Thomas Roberts."
Nick was lost for words. He knew Greg was depressed, but he had no idea he was having such a rough time. Nick didn't know what to say. "Have you been to the doctor?"
"What are they gonna do?" asked Greg.
"Greg Sanders?" came a doctor's voice. Nick had made an appointment for Gre,g and eventually talked him into going.
Greg stood up.
"Can I come?" asked Nick. He wanted to provide some moral support for his friend.
"If you want," said Greg.
Nick followed Greg and the doctor into the doctor's office.
The doctor sat down behind the desk, Greg sat down in front, and Nick sat down by the door.
"So, Greg," said the Doctor. "What can I do you for?"
"I'm, er, not sleeping right," said Greg, quietly.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, I can't get to sleep, and then I have nightmares."
"And is this most nights?"
"How long has this beeing going on?" asked the doctor.
"I don't know really," replied Greg. "Since Christmas I guess."
"And do you think this all stems back to when you were raped?"
Greg nodded. "I guess."
Nick gasped. He had no idea Greg'd been raped.
Greg looked at Nick. "I thought you knew."
"Man, I had no idea, I'm sorry."
"You didn't know?"
"No. Why would I? You didn't tell me."
"Oh," said Greg.
"Should I have kept quiet?" asked the doctor.
"No," said Greg. "It's okay."
"Right," said the doctor. "It's here in your notes that you didn't go for any counselling."
"I don't like talking about it," said Greg.
"You should," said the doctor. "It will help."
"Maybe," said Greg. "I'll think about it."
"Good," said the doctor. "So, are you eating properly?"
"Three regular meals a day?"
"All the time?"
Greg didn't say anything.
"Well, you've lost a lot of weight since I last say you."
"I noticed that too," said Nick.
"Yeah," said the doctor.
"I'm sat right here," said Greg, starting to feel slightly claustrophobic.
"I know," said the doctor. "Your friend here's clearly worried about you."
"I am," said Nick.
"There's no need," said Greg. "I'm fine."
"You know that's not true," said Nick.
"Okay," said the doctor, who could tell Greg was starting to feel uncomfortable. "How about I give you the medical onceover? That way, you'll find out if there's anything that's medically wrond with you, and if there's anything I can do to help you. Okay?"
"I guess," said Greg.
"Do you feel better now you've been to the doctors?" asked Nick.
"Not really," said Greg, as Nick unnlocked his car. "Do you have to work tonight?"
"Yes," said Nick. "You?"
"Yes," said Greg. "I'm pulling a double."
"Then I'm definitely making sure you get fed properly before you go in," said Nick.
"I'll be okay," said Greg. "You don't need to go to that trouble."
"I don't mind," said Nick. "Besides, I like cooking."
Greg smiled a little bit. "You like cooking?"
"Oh, hell yeah," said Nick. "You should see the chicken curry I do. It's great."
"I bet," said Greg.
The two of them sat in silence all the way back to Greg's house. Greg had slouched down in his seat so much that he couldn't see the bonnet of Nick's car. He spent half the journey staring out the window, and half the journey staring at the business card of a local counsellor the doctor had reccomended. He hoped Nick wouldn't bring up his rape, which was exactly what Nick was thinking about.
Should I bring it up? There's so much I don't know, but if he doesn't want to talk about it, maybe I should just let it be, I don't want to upset him. Does anyone else know? Did he report it? "Greg, can I ask you something?"
"Okay," said Greg, sitting up straight. He folded his hands in his lap, they'd started to shake. Greg's hands shook for two reasons. He was tired, or he was tense. At that moment, it was a bit of both.
"Did you report it?" asked Nick.
"Yes," said Greg.
"And did they get the guy?"
"he's in jail?"
"Good," said Nick.
There was a short silence.
"Anything else?" asked Greg.
"Greg-" said Nick.
"I don't mind," said Greg.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want everyone to know."
"Don't you trust me?"
"It's not that," said Greg. "I do trust you, you're one of my closest friends, it's just hard trying to find the right words. You can't exactly just say 'Hey, Nick, how's it going? Oh, by the way, I was raped the other day."
"Greg," said Nick, frowning.
"sorry," said Greg.
"Did you have to go and testify?" asked Nick.
"Yes," replied Greg.
"When did all this happen?"
"It started when Sara was murdered."
"Don't you get it?!" said Greg. "I was raped by Thomas Roberts."
"The same guy that killed Sara?"
"Oh, man, Greg, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."
"I don't think there's anything that you can say," said Greg, shrinking back down in his seat."
"I'm sorry," said Nick.
Greg was at home by himself, staring into the fridge. He was thinking about what the doctor had said. Greg was underweight. He wasn't eating properly, and this could be responsible for his insomnia. Greg didn't really feel hungry, but he knew that he had to eat something, but what? Greg closed the fridge. He couldn't find anything worth eating, anyway.
He looked around his little kitchen, and spotted the business card the doctor'd given him. It was bent, where Greg had been holding it a lot, debating whether to phone the number.
Greg picked up the card, and stared at it. In the end, he decided he should phone, and picked up the phone before he had time to change his mind.
After three rings, the phone was answered.
"Um, can I make an appointment please?" asked Greg... "I don't have a preferred day... Thursday's fine... What time? Well, I work nights, so any time really... 9am's fine. Okay, thanks."
Greg put the phone back on the hook. He got himself a glass of water, and phoned Nick. "Hey, it's me. You busy?"
That's it. This could be the last story in this series. I'm considering doing one more, where Greg goes to the counsellor, and tell him everything that's on his mind, but i'm not sure whether to do it or not.
Anyone want to persuade me??