Author's Note: Two chapters. Angst. Slash. Nick/Greg. Nick's POV.

Acknowledgements: Thanks goes out to Amanda for proofreading for me.

Disclaimer: None of the characters mentioned are mine.

Summary: Nick knows he loves Greg, but what are you supposed to do when the man you love is self-destructing in front of your very eyes? Greg's losing control, and Nick doesn't know what to do.

But… and Other Fine Words of Hidden Doubt
Part One

The house was quiet. Silent. A stillness that was in between deathly and comforting. An almost audible echo bounced off the walls… an echo of a one sided fight. A one sided argument. A one sided entity that had broken two lives… and a lamp.

Sighing with extreme exhaustion, Nick bent down and one handedly swept up the fragmented shards of his favorite lamp. The lamp shaped like a football. The lamp his father had given to him on his eleventh birthday.

He grasped the dustpan and pushed the shards into it with the shabby broom. Standing, he made his slow way to the garbage and dumped the broken lamp into the trash, throwing out a piece of his past.

Absentmindedly Nick wandered into the brightening living room and deposited himself onto the cool leather couch. He put his feet up, rubbing his temple.

Another fight.

Well, could you call it a "fight" when he didn't retaliate? When he let Greg say whatever he wanted to, to scream whatever he wanted to, to do whatever the hell he wanted to?

Nick sat up, an undercurrent of fury flowing through his veins, underneath the fatigue.

Greg had gone too far this time. Raising his hand almost subconsciously, he lightly rubbed his swollen cheek.

Greg hadn't just broken a lamp; he had shattered their relationship in two swift blows… one that sent the lamp soaring through the room, the other sending Nick to the floor, gasping in pain and astonishment.

In a flash Greg was at his side, helping him to his feet.

"Nick, I… I'm so sorry."

"You always are, Greg."

"I swear I didn't mean to, Nick, I just..."

"You never do."

Had Greg seen Nick's cold, listless eyes? Had he heard the defeated tone in his voice? Did he see the sag in his boyfriend's shoulders?

"Nick, I'm sorry…"

Nick hadn't replied and Greg had escaped out of the house, almost as if someone was about to set him ablaze.

Nick cringed, his body tensing with the memory of Greg being in that lab explosion. It hadn't been life threatening, but it had been one hell of a wakeup call. It was that night, as Nick sat beside his sleeping friend, when he realized that he had feelings for the younger man.

It had taken years for them to finally get together, but all their moments were worthwhile, all the hints and slight flirting finally emerging as something wonderful, something beautiful.

Nick smiled, but quickly let the smile slide off his face. It hurt too much to smile.

Of course he was still in love with Greg Sanders. There wasn't an ice cube's chance in hell that he didn't love that lab rat turned CSI. But…

Nick looked over his shoulder at the door, hoping that Greg would walk through it, but at the same time he wanted Greg to stay away, wherever he was. He was too tired to deal with this right now, too mentally and physically drained. Would he ever be completely ready to talk to Greg about why he was doing this? Nick doubted it with every fiber of his being. But it had to be done, or…

He didn't want to think of what would happen if Greg didn't change. This was the first time he had ever physically hurt Nick. Sure, Greg's words tore deep into Nick's heart, but he could handle it. He gave Greg a break, but now…

Yawning, Nick stood and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He grabbed a blue coffee cup out of the cupboard and went to the fridge. He was about to open it when he paused, staring intently at colorful photo taped with care to the door.

Nick's hand closed around the fridge handle, but he didn't open it. His eyes took in the scene unfolding before him, hidden in that photo.

It was a photo Nick had taken of Greg and his mother the day she arrived in Las Vegas, and three days before she died.

Greg's mother had always wanted to come to Las Vegas, so Greg volunteered their house as a place for her to stay. Greg had always been open about his sexuality, but Nick… well for some reason he was always scared of what everyone would think of him. Who had ever heard of a gay cowboy from Texas?

Mrs. Sanders looked nothing like Greg, except for the eyes. They both had the same deep, rich coffee-brown eyes that sparkled and twinkled. The same eyes that portrayed their inner feelings, those feelings that they just couldn't express.

Nick had taken a shining to her right from the get go. Sure, Greg could complain about how overprotective she was of him, but Nick could tell that Mrs. Sanders hadn't have wanted Greg to be labeled a "geek" in high school… she was just scared for him.

They had spent a great couple of mornings together; Nick and Greg would go off to work at night while Greg's mother would go off to shop or look around, and they would spend most of the morning together. It worked for all of them, until…

Nick's eyes burned with tears but none of them were threatening to flow. He had cried enough. He had accepted what had happened. He was moving on. Greg was not.

Not long after Mrs. Sanders' death, Greg changed. On the outside he still seemed to be the same old Greg. Always there with a joke, always there with an encouraging word or a goofy smile. But at home… at home he was different. When was the last time Greg had joked around with Nick? The last time he had said anything nice to Nick… or smiled at him. That smile that told Nick that everything would be okay, when in truth his world was falling apart before his very eyes.

He couldn't comfort Greg. He would lie awake every night, just waiting for Greg to finally start to let his pure, agonizing grief out, but that moment would never come. Greg hadn't shed a tear for his mother. Not one pearly little droplet of moisture had escaped from Greg's heart, his soul.

At the weakest moments of their relationship, Nick wondered if Greg had become heartless, a monster of sorts. A monster who had started to holler at him instead of letting his true feelings out.

The fights had started not long after the funeral. Nick would try to approach the subject of Greg's mother, and Greg had retreated defensively, then attacking Nick verbally, but Nick was persistent. He would get Greg to talk about it sometime, or he would die trying.

Realizing he had been standing in front of the fridge for the past five minutes, Nick gave himself a shake and opened the fridge, welcoming the frigid blast of air that wafted out. He grabbed the water pitcher and poured himself some water. He took a sip, the cool liquid extinguishing the fire that had been raging inside of him.

Had Nick given himself a death sentence? If he pushed the subject even further, would Greg completely snap? Nick would like to hope that Greg would never, ever do that, but…

Again, there was that word. The word that exposed those hidden and secret thoughts of doubt… the word that showed what you were truly thinking.

Nick touched his swollen face then flinched. How could Greg have done that? How could he have lost control like that?

Nick took another drink of water. Now what was he supposed to do? Should he talk to Greg about it, ignore it, or…

There was always the possibility of Greg changing under threat. What if he was to up and leave Greg all by himself? He would come back if, and only if, Greg would finally start communicating again. Greg couldn't lock himself inside his head. His inner demons would surely slaughter his soul… or had they already?

In the back of his mind, Nick heard the front door slowly open. He heard someone walk into the kitchen, and he could sense someone standing behind him. The kitchen seemed to become dead silent, except for an odd dripping noise…

Nick turned around, expecting the worst, but even then he wasn't prepared for what he saw.