A/N: Alrighty folks, I think this story has run its course and this will be the last chapter. Thanks to all my readers. I couldn't ask for a better audience. :)
"Stop staring at me," Greg muttered into his pillow. His back was to me, and all I could see was a silver-blue outline in the dark bedroom. "It's starting to get creepy."
"I'm just keeping an eye on what's mine," I said, and heard a faint chuckle float up from his side of the bed.
"That phrase sounds familiar," he said languidly.
I didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking. "You belong to me, Greg."
"That sounds familiar, too. Wait until I'm asleep," he said, not bothering to turn around, "then you can ogle me all you want."
"I want to ogle you now."
"Time means nothing when it comes to you."
"Answer me this–how can you ogle me with the lights out?"
"I know what you look like."
"I suppose you do. Next you'll want to cuddle and keep my up all night by telling me all about your silly little pipe dreams."
"Cuddling sounds like a good idea." I climbed over and wrapped an arm around his middle, being careful not to thwack him in the elbow with the cast, and placed a few fluttery kisses on his shoulder. He grunted, but I don't know if it was in surprise or dismay. Either way, he was stuck with me cuddling for the rest of the night.
"I was just kidding, Jimmy."
"Tell me about your pipe dreams. Maybe you can bore me into a coma and I'll actually get some sleep tonight."
"I never really had any pipe dreams," I began, resting my head on his pillow. "Since I was a kid I wanted to be doctor. I guess you could say that my dream came true."
"Lucky you. You never wanted to be a fireman or a baseball player or a big movie star?"
"You were probably the geekiest kid in school. I'll bet you had a chemistry set."
"As a matter of fact, I did. I nearly blew up the garage."
"Yup, that sounds like my Jimmy," he snickered.
"David was always the big dreamer of the Wilson family."
He paused for a few beats before asking, "What was his big dream?"
"To find the cure for diabetes. Our grandfather died from diabetes related complications when David and I were in our teens. For the longest time he went around saying that he would find the cure and be rich and famous and none of us would ever have to work again."
"That was rather noble of him."
"Yeah, it was," I sighed. "That was David. He didn't want to be just a doctor, he wanted to be the biggest and best doctor in the world. Maybe he would have found the cure. Who knows?"
"You still blame yourself for what happened to David, don't you? It wasn't your fault. I told you to let go of your guilt."
"I know. Maybe someday I'll be able to."
His hand encircled mine as much as the cast would allow. "You do have a pipe dream, Jimmy. You want to save the world, starting with your brother and me. It's too late for David, but not me. Isn't that right?"
"I wish you would consider going to therapy."
"I wish you would quit worrying so much."
"Look, if by some miracle you happen to change your mind about therapy–"
"You'll be the first to know, Dr. Worrywart."
"I know of a few good therapists."
"I'm sure you do, and I'm sure they're dying to get a crack at me, to figure out what makes me tick."
"They want to help you."
"That's what they all say. You worry too much, Jimmy."
"Greg," I said, hugging him closer. "I'm worried about you. I'll worry about you tonight, I'll worry about you tomorrow, and I'll worry about you until my last dying breath."