Author's Note: This was probably the hardest thing I've ever written in my life … xD

Two chapters. Character death. Romance/Angst/Tragedy. Nick/Greg. Slash. Greg's POV.

Warning: Character death. The language is also worse than what I've written before.

Disclaimer: I don't own Nick or Greg. I wish I did, but ah well.

Acknowledgements: Thanks goes to Amanda, seeing as how she proofread my stuff for me. I also want to say thanks to her for recommending a few songs for me to listen to, seeing as how one of them gave me the idea for this song.

I want to give a huge thank you to Natasha (Sara's Girl) because she beta'd this story for me, and her advice and suggestions made it about ten times better than it originally was. Thanks again.

Summary: When it's your time to go, no one can save you. Not even a hero.

I Promise

Chapter One

"No deed goes unchallenged, even if it has good intentions."

Greg slipped his hand into Nick's, pulling him out of the darkened and almost empty theatre. They were the only couple on the street now, the only couple around, actually. There had been only two other people at the movie, and they had been whisked away by nervous parents as soon as it had ended.

Leisurely they strolled down the silent, calm street, past the closed stores and restaurants. It was peaceful, and Greg loved just being there with Nick. The fact that everyone else was at home sleeping soundly just made him appreciate Nick even more.

"So this was your first midnight movie, huh?" Greg asked, glancing at the slightly shorter man, his eyebrows raised in skepticism.

"Yeah, maybe," Nick relented, grinning at Greg.

"That's kind of sad, Nicky. We're gonna have to do this again, then."

"Yeah, I guess we could, on our next night off, maybe."

"Oh, but didn't we already schedule a date for that night?" Greg inquired, his eyes flashing mischievously as they passed under a flickering street lamp.

"What would you call this, I wonder?" Nick teased, chuckling to himself.

"Just a night on the town," Greg sighed, pulling Nick closer to him. The younger man smiled, completely at ease with the Texan.

"I love you, G," Nick told his boyfriend, stopping below a lit up McDonald's sign.

"I love you too, Nicky," Greg replied softly. Nick beamed at him, and then raised his lips to meet Greg's awaiting mouth.

After the passionately sweet kiss, Greg looked up pointedly at the sign. "Wow, way to be all romantic Nick. Were you thinking about me, or your stomach?"

Nick only rolled his eyes and continued on walking. They had taken the bus, and it would be back at the same bus stop around three. They had half an hour to get there, and right now that seemed like all the time in the world.

"Greg, this was a really great idea of yours," Nick murmured after a few minutes of tranquility.

"I do get them every so often, you know."

Nick stopped again, just staring up into Greg's eyes. The light breeze blew an empty Styrofoam cup along on the dusty street, the sound echoing in the stillness.

"But I really mean it, Greg. This … this was exactly what I needed. I don't want this night to end," the Texan told him, gently grasping both of Greg's hands. He then softly kissed each of the knuckles on the younger man's hands, causing Greg to emit a sigh.

"I don't want this night to end either, Nicky. But please, we're still in broad—"

"Moonlight?" Nick offered, dropping Greg's left hand, but still held on to his right hand as they continued on to their destination.

"Yeah, I guess. I just have a funny feeling about tonight, you know, like—"

"Shhh!" Nick hissed, stopping dead, dropping Greg's hand as if it was on fire. Nick's body went rigid, and Greg knew he was listening for something.

"What …?" Greg started, but then he too dropped his sentence. He had heard the sobbing, too.

Slowly the CSI Level One turned on his heel, peering into the gloom and shadows of an alley. A sense of foreboding emanated from it, and he knew they shouldn't enter, that they should just call the police—

"Nick, what the fuck are you doing?" Greg yelped, trying to be quiet, but he couldn't help it. Nick had started to walk towards the alley. "Nick!"

"Someone needs help," Nick told him, cautiously entering the alley, but before he had gotten even a few steps in, Greg was grasping his sleeve, his hand almost like a claw as he dragged the Texan back.

"Nick! What do you think you're doing? This isn't a game! Please, can't we let the—the police deal with it? Please?" Greg asked almost breathlessly, his heart pumping, fear and anger at Nick's blindness to the situation flowing through his veins. "I'll call them, 'kay?"

Nick turned to gaze at Greg, and the younger man could see the torment in Nick's eyes.

"I know, Nicky. I know you want to save the world, but sometimes—sometimes you have to let the right people do it. Please?"

Nick nodded curtly, but he turned back towards the alley, still obviously trying to get a good look into the gloom. Greg took that as the sign that he should be the one who called nine-one-one.

A scream for help ripped apart the tense air. Within the blood-curdling shriek, Greg could hear the words: "Help me, please, someone!" It was a woman, and she seemed as if in huge amounts of panic and fear.

"NICK!" Greg shouted, trying to grab the other man's jacket, but Nick had already bolted down the alley. "FUCK!" Greg swore out loud, chasing after the man he loved. What the hell had happened to the calm and peace?

He didn't have to run far. After a right turn in the alley, Greg found Nick bent over an obviously pregnant woman who was leaning up against the side wall of a brick building. Light filtered in from a street lamp in the distance. Greg had run blindly down a short alley that ended in a dead end. A dumpster was against the wooden fence at the back, and a barred and locked door was right across from Nick's back.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you okay?" Greg heard Nick ask, his voice tense and nervous.

"He—there's a man, he—he attacked me, he isn't gone, he's coming back!" the woman screeched, her chest rising and falling quickly.

Nick threw an extremely worried glance at Greg before turning back to the woman.

"Ma'am, please stay with me here. I'm a police officer, and I won't let anything happen to you, don't worry. Can you stand?" Greg rushed forwards to help as Nick pulled the heaving woman to her feet. The woman's makeup was extremely smudged, her mouth trembling.

"My—my husband, he … he doesn't know where I am," she sniffled, throwing a glance around, her eyes terrified.

"Don't worry, ma'am. We have a cell phone here—" Greg withdrew it swiftly, showing it to her "—and we're going to call for help," Nick explained slowly, trying to soothe her.

"Drop the cell phone," a cruel, harsh voice from behind all three of them demanded.

Greg's mouth went completely dry; his heart rate skyrocketed as he gradually turned around to see who had spoken. It was a man, slightly taller than Greg, with scraggly, unkempt blonde hair, his face was unshaven, and he had the air of a man who had gone insane. But the one thing that drew Greg's attention most was the black pistol that was being pointed straight at Nick's heart.

Nick moved over to the left slightly, shielding the woman from the assailant's view.

"Drop it, Greg," Nick muttered, his lips barely moving. Realizing that he hadn't let go of the cell phone, Greg dropped it, his fingers numb with terror.

"Now, don't do anything you'll regret," Nick told the man, licking his lips. Greg knew that Nick was calculating inside his mind, but there was nothing that could save them. Nick didn't have his gun on him.

"Yeah? You think I'll regret this? Killing a son of a bitch cop, huh?" the man whispered, baring his dirty brown teeth.

"He isn't a cop," Greg said swiftly.

The gun switched to his own face, and Greg felt like throwing up. He could feel the popcorn and pop he had consumed churning in his stomach.

"Oh, so now he isn't a cop."

"He's a CSI. He just deals in evidence," Greg tried to explain further, but the words wouldn't come. His breathing had gone ragged now, and he wondered if he would pass out. Not once in his sheltered life had he stared down the barrel of gun.

"What the hell is a CSI?" the man asked, his hand not even shaking as he held the weapon, only two inches away from Greg's nose.

"It stands for Crime Scene Investigator," Nick told him, his voice steady, and oddly calming.

The gun switched targets again.

"Yeah, and after I'm done with you there will definitely be a scene to investigate," the gun-wielding man chuckled.

Greg's stomach just seemed to drop away. This guy wasn't afraid to shoot them, to kill them. Wasn't afraid to destroy them.

"Think about what you're doing," Nick said, his voice still strong, still composed.

Wasn't he even afraid?

"Please," Greg added, his voice puny and weak against Nick's.

Once again Greg was gazing at the pistol, up close and personal. The man couldn't decide who he wanted to shoot, who he wanted to destroy.

"You know," the man drawled slowly, almost as if reading Greg's thoughts, "I could just kill both of you now, then take the lady for my own pleasures later."

The woman behind Nick let out a shrill shriek, and dropped to the garbage-strewn cement like a load of bricks, her body fell sideways and her shoulder slammed into the ground. Acting upon instinct, both Nick and Greg whirled around.

The gun went off with a blast. Once, twice, three times. Three times Greg's body shuddered and shook, his eyes streaming from the noise, his head pounding. He heard someone drop to the ground, and he vaguely wondered if he himself had plunged to the cement.

Greg opened his eyes as he heard the criminal run, his footsteps echoing in the now eerily silent alley. He felt no pain, so that must mean—

"NO!" Greg cried, lurching towards Nick. The Texan was on his knees, facing the brick wall. His hands were searching his chest, but there were no marks. Nick wobbled on his knees, finally falling towards the wall, letting Greg get a look at the damage. Three maroon splotches were already spreading all over the older man's back. Nick's coat was now completely soaked through with blood.

"NO! NICK!" Greg's voice echoed in his ears as he laid Nick down on his side, putting the Texan's familiar face into his shaking hands. He was kneeling in a puddle of his lover's blood, the warmth being absorbed into his jeans. "No, Nick, please, stay here, okay? I'll call for help, please don't—"

Nick only made a strangled noise in response. Greg lowered the Texan's face softly onto the ground, scrambling around for the cell phone. He rapidly dialed nine-one-one, his heart thudding erratically in his chest, his mind numb except for the intense fear that was present there.

"COME ON!" he bellowed in frustration, the tears flowing freely from his eyes, but Greg paid them no attention.

"Nine-one-one, what's your—"

"My friend's been shot three times in the back, and a pregnant woman's passed out. I think he's dying, please … please save him!" Greg sobbed, his vision blurring.

"Sir, what's your location?"

Greg ran a hand haphazardly through his disheveled hair, struggling to remember where they are. "Uh, South Sunterra Boulevard. We're just past the movie theatre, by the McDonalds. Please, you have to come soon!"

"The rescue personnel will be there momentarily, just please stay calm. Check if the pregnant woman is still breathing, then try to make your friend as comfortable as possible. Try to stop the bleeding with anything clean you have," the professional sounding woman on the other end told Greg.

After the instructions, he dropped the phone and raced towards the woman, his hands searching for a pulse. Within seconds, Greg felt the steady strumming of her heart. With that out of the way, the CSI Level One turned back towards the man lying in a pool of his own blood.

"Nicky, they'll be here soon. Please, just stay with me," Greg whispered, kneeling down beside Nick. He tried to see Nick's face, see his eyes, his lips, his nose, but he couldn't see past the veil of tears that had cloaked his vision. Bawling, Greg wrenched his own sweater off and pushed it up against Nick's back. The Texan let out a grunt of pain, and within mere seconds, the sweater was already drenched.

"Is … is she … okay?" Nick finally croaked, the words garbled and hard to understand.

"Yes, she's fine. You will be too, okay?"

"I—I'm sorry, Greg."

"No, no don't say that, don't apologize, this isn't over yet!"

Nick licked his lips, his mouth trembling. "Promise me you won't be sad forever. Promise … promise me you'll let go when you're ready …"

Greg bowed his head, the tears racing down the end of his nose and pooling onto Nick's jacket. "No Nick, you can't go like this! Please, stay with me!"

"Promise … me …"

Greg's hands were shaking as if he was in an earthquake. He knew he'd never be able to let go of Nick, not ever. Not while there was still life in the man he loved. Not while his best friend's heart was still beating. "I—I promise, but please Nick, stay with me—"

"Greg," Nick's breathing became labored, his own eyes misting over with tears, "I love you, and I'm sorry this … this is how it … it had to end." The Texan's chest shuddered, and his face went deathly pale.

"NO!" Greg screamed horribly, wiping his eyes frantically. "No, Nicky, this isn't the end, please, this can't be the end!"

Nick made no response, and even Greg could see that Nick's chest had stopped moving.

"Nick, no, please, stay here, stay with me Nicky, don't leave me all alone," Greg forced out, his fingers scrabbling for a pulse. He couldn't find one, but that didn't stop his searching. "Nick, no, please …" Greg's eyes were drawn towards Nick's open, vacant eyes, those eyes that used to be so full of energy, of love and warmth, but now … now they were empty. Devoid of life. Devoid of everything.

Greg let out a strangled howl, and threw himself down on top of Nick's unmoving form, sobs wracking his body, his mind filled with an excruciating pain.

One life hadn't just ended that night … another had been destroyed, too. Shattered, broken, obliterated, and decimated beyond anything that could be imagined.

In just one night, all Greg had left were his memories and a promise.