"W-What?" Greg asked, his voice quavering a little. Not from dissapointment, but from anger. Nick couldn't do this. No. After he had put all of his heart and soul into this Sheila Daniel's Case Nick was just going to say he couldn't work it anymore. It wasn't fair, there couldn't possibly be a good reason for this.

"You heard me." Nick answered coldly, his glare staring deep into Greg's eyes. Truth was Nick didn't want to do this, but Ecklie ordered it and seeing his friend so tired and stressed from this case was driving him mad. He knew Ecklie was making the wrong call, but he wasn't about to tell that to him.

"Why?" Greg asked his face turning red as anger boiled into him. He took a step closer to Nick, closing nearly all the space between them.

"Because Ecklie said so and we need you on Ms. Anderson's case." Nick wasn't lying. Ecklie said so and they were short handed on Ms. Anderson's case, but he didn't tell Greg the whole truth. He didn't like Greg being stressed and that's why he didn't protest to Ecklie's demands.

"You're lying and you know it." Greg raised his voice as he jabbed his index finger in the middle of Nick's chest, "From all the people to do this," Greg paused and his voice faltered, "I-I would never expect it from you." He took a couple steps back from Nick and his face hardened, "I hate you. You know that? I hate your fucking guts." This was hard to say, Nick and him had been friends for a long time.

Nick watched as his best friend whipped around and stalked out the room. He felt helpless. Turning around he continued the task he started off doing, examining Sheila Daniel's Case pictures. Flipping through pictures of a gun, blood puddles, and a body splattered on the stairway, Nick tried his best to concentrate. No matter how hard he tried, his mind kept wandering back to Greg. It had stung when those three words had come out of his lips, "I. Hate. You." He could still here them. Secret was Nick had a crush on Greg, which only made it worse.

Angrily Nick slammed the file closed and clenched his fists. Greg was right, it wasn't fair. He took a deep breath and realized he couldn't do anything about it except try to convince Greg it wasn't his fault, that Ecklie made him do it. Nick walked out of the room and into the hallway. Veering to his right he entered the room where everyone kind of relaxed. It was empty since it was probably around midnight by now.

Sitting in an uncomfortable chair, Nick shut his eyes tightly and slowly drifted into a light sleep.

"That bastard. He has no right. I bet he mentioned it to Ecklie. I bet...I bet..." Greg stopped speaking to himself as he felt a tear roll down his face and drop onto the cold concrete. The night was colder than average for December and Greg stood out in the parking lot, freezing. He watched his tear drop splash on the ground and mumbled to himself, "Why do I have to love him? Why, oh, why?" He strained his neck to find his car as he walked past a patch of woodland. He never saw the blow coming, but he could remember something hitting him hard on the head.

Greg groaned as he felt someone shove him into the woodland. His attacker quickly clamped his hand over Greg's mouth and Greg could taste the rubber on the glove the guy was wearing. Greg attempted to struggle, but the attacker grabbed a knife from his pocket and pressed the cold blade against Greg's bare neck, "Struggle and I slit your throat." The attacker's voice was low and rough.

Greg nodded and stopped struggling and he felt the man slowly remove the knife from his neck and put it back in his pocket. The man began to tug at Greg's pants, finally pulling them down to Greg's ankles. He did the same with the red boxers Greg had on. Greg let out a small whimper as he felt the attacker's hands run across his thighs. An aggresive laugh hit the cold air as the attacker gripped his hands on Greg's legs, spreading them apart, "You're a little man slut. Do you know that? I'm going to fuck your brains out and make you enjoy it. Now, show my that little ass of yours."

"Please, don't." Greg pleaded as he felt the man's hands grabb his buttox. Before he knew what was happening Greg was on his stomach, his face digging into the mud. He heard the attacker unzip his pants and pull down his clothing.

"Get up you little whore." The man growled as he forced Greg to use his hands and knees for support. He stayed in that position as he felt the attacker's manhood press against his entrance. Taking a deep breath, Greg closed his eyes and silently cried, praying this wasn't happening. He wished it was all just a dream, and that he would wake up and everything would be alright.

The attacker shoved deep inside of him as one of his hands shoved on Greg's mouth. Greg tried to scream but it was cut off by the man's hand again. The attacker had his way with Greg, each thrust going harder and deeper. Finally the man ejackulated into Greg and pulled out of him. Greg's limbs crumbled beneath him and he fell onto the dirt, tears rolling down his face. He glanced back and saw his attacker stalking towards him. The man grabbed his hair and pulled Greg's head up to his waist, "Suck it, you slut. Look what you did, you got your blood all over me."

Greg saw that his blood was covering the attacker's member. He obeyed the man's demands, trying not to gag. Finally the attacker pulled up his pants and laughed, "Now, didn't you enjoy that? I know I did." His tone grew serious and he pulled out his knife, "You tell anyone about this, you die." The last thing Greg remembered was something hitting him in the head.