The Hipest Science Geek

Wed, 09 May 2007 04:21:55 GMT

Who: Nick
Where: Their house
When: Immediately after Rachel's birthday party.

Greg shuts the door behind the last guest with a sigh. The party went off without a hitch, surprisingly and thankfully enough. Rachel is completely worn out and he's thankful for that too because he could tell that by the end of the party, Nick was about to lose it. They have a lot to talk about and it's better if Rachel sleeps through it. It's actually kind of a miracle that Rachel's any sort of awake considering Calvin bailed on the party long ago.

Greg puts Rachel to bed with a soft kiss and she's out within seconds, sleeping peacefully. He smiles down at her and prays everything works out okay. After a moment of just watching her, he goes back out to the living room and gathers up the garbage before making his way into the kitchen where Nick is putting dishes in the dishwasher.

"Looks like all that's left to do is take down the decorations," he says softly, not knowing what else to say.

Sat, 10 Feb 2007 00:55:38 GMT

Who: Nick (also facing Calvin)
Where: The hospital and then Nick and Greg's house.
When: A couple of days after the dinner with Aiden

Despite what Aiden thinks, Greg has arranged for Calvin to come stay with him and Nick. If a judge is going to think he influenced him by talking to him initially, the damage is already done and this can't make things any worse. Besides, Calvin's helped him a lot, just by being who he is, and Greg wants to return the favour as best he can.

Greg walks through the hospital, barely needing to watch where he's going. Afterall, he's practically lived in this place since moving to Miami. It's a little sad, but he doesn't really think about it anymore.

Knocking lightly on Calvin's door, he pops his head in. "Hey, you ready to get out of here?"

Sat, 03 Feb 2007 00:20:13 GMT

Who: Nick and Aiden
Where: Nick and Greg's place.
When: Current.

After a month, Greg was relieved to finally find that he, Nick and Aiden all managed to have an evening off together. He's been anticipating this dinner ever since Aiden and Nick agreed to it. He's anxious to prove to Nick that Aiden's really a good person and that she just made a mistake when they were young. He also wants Aiden to see that Nick's just trying to protect him (as per usual). He just knows that if they can get over the past that they could be great friends.

Needless to say, this is a big night for Greg and he's more than a little nervous.

He's been cleaning all day, wanting everything to be perfect. Nick's been in the kitchen all day making lasagne from scratch, which Greg has to admit still impresses him. Come on, who makes lasagne from scratch? It's mouthwateringly good though, so Greg would never even think of saything that to Nick.

Picking up Rachel out of her playpen, he walks into the kitchen. "How's it coming in here?" he asks, smiling, though obviously a bit nervous. He just wants them to get along so badly...

Coming Home

Wed, 06 Dec 2006 02:54:57 GMT

Who: Nick
Where: The hospital to start.
When: Backdated to a suitable amount of time before the Christmas party. (Time really flies eh?)

It's finally happened, the doctors have finally decided that Greg can go home. He had been starting to wonder as he didn't think his injuries were bad enough to keep him this long, but he was assured over and over that it was proceedure.

Now he's nervous because he doesn't really know where he stands with Nick. He's always happy to see him when he comes to visit, and misses him when he's gone, but with everything that's happened, he doesn't really know if he should trust these feelings. He's worried that he's going to hurt Nick again, and he just can't deal with that. Not right now, not ever.

So he just sits there, waiting for Nick to come take him home and hopes for the best. What else can he do?

Wed, 18 Oct 2006 10:57:18 GMT

Who: No one, stand alone
Where: Club Rouge
When: A few days after Hallowe'en

Marcus leans against the bar, surveying the dance-floor with heavy-lidded eyes. His phone vibrates in the pocket of his jeans and he checks it. Everything's set. This isn't his sort of place, not really, but he's surprised to find how quickly he's got used to it. The music is pounding, and all the beautiful people are out tonight. He scans the crowd, but there's no one here who interests him. Not yet. Not tonight. He leans over the bar and orders a whiskey and dry, sipping it slowly. He knows he looks good, his dark hair slicked back, his jeans fitting just so, his dark t-shirt tight across his pecs. He knows what guys like. Knows what that makes him. Bait.

He turns and leans against the bar, one hip cocked out, feeling the warmth of the whiskey and the tingle of the ginger slide down his throat. He's in no hurry, but it's not so long before someone catches his eye. He holds his gaze for just that second too long, and looks away.

Greg knows he's desperate now. He can't even remember the last time he went cruising at a club. He did it in Vegas all the time, but hasn't been once since coming to Miami. He's just got to get Nick out of his system and the only time he seems to feel free of him is when he's concentrated on someone else, anyone else. So here he is. Some gay bar near the beach, dressed in his best club clothes. He's wearing his too tight jeans and a too tight black t-shirt that shows off everything. His hair is spiked up like in the old days, black eyeliner smudged under his eyes, and a bit of glitter in his hair for an added touch.

The second he walks in, his eyes scan the room. Almost immediately his eyes land on someone who could almost pass for Nick if he squinted just right. This actually almost makes him walks away, except that the man is staring back at him, making him unable to resist. With a confident walk, Greg strolls over to the bar and stands next to the man. He orders a beer from the bartender and turns to lean against the bar, watching the crowd. He's still a little torn over how the man next to him looks, but he can't deny that he looks damn good.

Marcus stretches a little, posing just so, and watches the guy saunter over next to him. Ultra casually, as if it's accidental that they should end up standing so close together, almost touching as they lean on the bar. Marcus turns his head, deliberately, and stares at him. Slowly, from the tip of the spiked hair, down to the floor, and back, eyes lingering at the crotch and finally, on the lips. The guy's perfect. A perfect little cock-sucker, all tight black clothes and eye-liner. Marcus just stares at him, a slight smile of anticipation hovering on his lips.

"Hi," he says, voice low and suggestive. "I was just beginning to think that this night was going to be a total waste of my time."

Greg turns to the man with a smirk on his face. The man is cut and his shirt only serves to show that off. His arms and chest definitely drool worthy. "Oh really," he says, his tone just as suggestive as the man he's talking to. "Well, I'm glad I could make your night." He takes another sip of his drink and turns slightly to face him.

Marcus leans in a little closer. "I wouldn't go that far," he says in a low voice. "The night is still young. Who knows what could happen?" He reaches out a hand and picks an imaginary piece of lint off Greg's shoulder, then runs a single finger down Greg's bare arm. And then settles back against the bar, with a slightly smug smile on his face. Takes a last sip of his whiskey, and puts the glass down on the bar with an audible click. Nods at the bartender, and he brings another one, sharpish.

"I haven't seen you around here before," he observes, not looking at Greg at all, but surveying the crowd.

Greg looks down as the other man runs a finger along his arm and he's unable to suppress the shiver that runs through him. He knows, at that precise moment, that he's truly desperate and pathetic. He also doesn't give a shit. "How far would you go?" he asks, almost casually, taking another leisurely sip.

"I don't tend to do the club scene," he says with a shrug. "Probably why you haven't seen me."

Marcus laughs, then, a chuckle that's warm in his throat, and he eyes Greg appreciatively, leaning in so his lips are right against Greg's ear. "How far? You're gonna be surprised at how far I'll go," he mutters, voice soft against the pulsing beat of the music.

"You know what I see when I see you?" he says, voice soft. "I see someone who's not so much out for a good time as to forget a bad time. I can do that for you, not-into-the-club-scene-boy. But I warn you, I like to take control. You might not like what I have to offer." He laughs then, genuinely amused at his own honesty. Greg might not like it, he might not like it at all.

"I don't really have a problem with that," Greg says, being just as honest. Right now, he doesn't really give a fuck what this guy has in mind, he just wants, no needs to be touched. It's not like he doesn't like it rough, and it looks like this guy can give him that. "Take control all you want. If I came here looking to top, I wouldn't be dressed like this and I most certainly wouldn't have come here."

Marcus coughs out another laugh. He thinks perhaps the fag thinks he'd be able to top him. And that just isn't comprehensible. He leans in again, and kisses him, lightly, running a light, discreet hand down Greg's stomach, over his crotch. "I will take control," he warns, in a soft, silky voice. "Remember, afterwards, I warned you, and you still wanted it." His breath is hot against Greg's ear. "I'm not like anything you ever had before, boy."

He takes a step back, and looks at Greg, raising an eyebrow at him. "You gonna suck my cock, not-into-the-club-scene-boy? You gonna take it like a man?"

There's something in the guy's voice that sets off warning bells in Greg's mind, but he doesn't care. He ignores them, liking the danger and how it makes him not think of anything else. That was the point of coming here after all. Greg sucks in a breath as the man's hand runs down his body, his eyes fluttering shut just for a moment. "That's exactly what I want right now," he whispers. He needs someone to take control, make him not think for awhile and Greg no longer cares who it is, he's just desperate not to think, which is really fucking hard for him.

"You want me to do it right here?" Greg asks, almost smugly with one eyebrow cocked. He starts to sink to the floor infront of him, maybe a little too anxious to get lost in this scene.

Marcus stops Greg with one finger under his chin, and raises his face so that the flashing lights of the club light it. He can tell there's more than just sex to this, and he doesn't care. In the neon flash the fag's face is almost innocent, much more than Marcus suspects that the boy's aware of.

"When I want you to do it, I'll tell you," he says, with a hint of warning in his voice. Then he smiles, with all the charm that he knows that he has, and leans down to nip Greg's ear, very lightly, but sharp enough to hurt. "Let's take this outside," he murmurs. "I need some air."

He turns, and pushes through the crowd, towards the door leading out to the parking lot at the rear of the club. He knows Greg will follow. He's seen that look before.

Greg stands obediantly, truly in submission form tonight. He's been in that form for awhile now actually. He just hasn't had the energy to want to dominate. He gives the man a little nod and follows him outside. He didn't really think that he wanted it right there in the middle of the club anyways. It would just have gotten them kicked out.

He follows him outside, slightly relieved himself. The club was getting a little stuffy and he's not about to give up on this. Right now, any distraction is a good distraction.

Marcus pushes through the heavy fire door and listens as Greg follows him. He casts a glance around. He can't see the guys but he knows that they're here. After all, they've done this before. He walks around the side of the building, the alley filled with dumpsters and junk. He turns and watches the younger man following him.

Marcus stretches again, and grins, a smile that doesn't touch his eyes. He leans back against the wall and makes a gesture towards his groin. "Get on your knees," he commands. "I want to feel your mouth on me."

Greg gets that sensation that somethings wrong again, but he just thinks it's because he doesn't normally do this. Sure, he hasn't been anything close to celebate, but usually he at least knows the person. Even still, his current state of mind simply won't let him care, or back out. Instead of changing his mind and leaving like the voice in the back of his head tells him too, he sinks to the ground in front of the stranger and reaches for the fly of his pants.

Marcus looks down at Greg, his face enigmatic. "Look at me," he commands, his voice rough. He waits til Greg complies, and by then his face is dark and forbidding. Marcus runs an almost affectionate hand down Greg's cheek, and then, as quick as lightning, he backhands Greg across the face, as hard as he can.

"God hates what you do," Marcus intones, and when he looks up, the others are there, dressed in dark clothes, forming a circle around where Greg is lying. Marcus reaches down and drags Greg up again, and hits him again, hard.

"Dirty fag," says one of the watchers, and spits on him. Marcus cracks his knuckles, and steps forward once again. This time it's his foot that connects with Greg's stomach, aiming to wind him. He's only just started.

When Greg looks up at the guy, it's suddenly obvious. He knows exactly what's going to happen and oddly, he smiles. He deserves this. That much is clear. He's lost the one person that was ever important to him because he couldn't keep it in his pants. Now he quite possibly could lose his life. It's only fitting.

The first blow hurts, but no more than other things he's experienced. He just lies there on the ground, smiling still, as he's surrounded by a group of men. "Just do it," he says in a defeated tone. "You hate me, your god hates me, who the fuck cares." He's almost laughing at this point. Even if he dies, they'll get the spit off him. These guys are going down no matter what happens. "Just do it," he repeats. "You can't take anything from me because I've already lost everything." That's when a foot connects with his abdomen, effectively shutting him up.

Marcus steps almost fastidiously over Greg's prone body, and sinks down to crouch over him. "You don't get it, fag," he says, slapping Greg across the face almost casually. "You've offended Him in his holy sight. You think you've got nothing else to lose? What about your soul? You think you can't hurt more than you're already hurting because of your sinful life?" He takes Greg's slender hand in his own, and holds his gaze as he takes Greg's littlest finger in his hands and snaps it like a twig. The crack of bone is loud and clear. "You think THAT hurts?" he asks, his voice soft over the laughter and jeers of the men standing around him. "Imagine that, for all eternity." He takes Greg's ring finger, and holds it, prepared to do it again.

"You repenting yet, fag?" he asks, his voice a soft growl.

"Sorry, I gave up on all that religious crap the day a priest raped me," he says almost casually. "I really don't give a fuck if you think he's offended."

Greg bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood when his first finger is broken. He refuses to scream, refuses to let them have the satisfaction. Besides, he knows that there's nothing he can do. It doesn't matter what he says, they're out to hurt him as much as humanly possible, so why bother giving in? He tenses as he waits for the same thing to happen to his ring finger, only praying that if he survives, his hand will heal well enough so that he can work again. After all, work is the last thing he has. Without it he might as well be dead.

Marcus laughs, leaning into Greg and whispering in his ear over the crack of his ring finger breaking. "I bet you begged for it," he mocks. "I bet he saw what you were, and thought he'd give you just what you wanted. What did you think you were coming out here for, fag? You wanted it. I told you I would hurt you and you still came. I warned you. Remember that, I warned you and you still came."

He sits back and surveys Greg's face. "He IS offended," he says, lightly, and smacks Greg across the face again, splitting his lip. Waits, and does it again. "You going to scream for me now, fagboy? How do you like the club scene now?" The laugh that he gives isn't entirely sane, it's dark and amused and utterly unforgiving.

Somehow Greg manages to stifle yet another scream, though he's hurt more by the words than the breaking of his finger. "I wanted you to hurt me," he admits. His face is somber. Sure, he wasn't expecting this, but he was expecting pain. It's what he needs. He's not about to tell this guy that, but this is a better distraction than he ever could've hoped for.

Greg's tongue darts out to taste the blood on his lip. His hand is throbbing and he can feel his lip swelling quickly, but he still doesn't react. He just doesn't care enough too.

Marcus looks at Greg's eyes, and they're dull and hopeless, and that irks him. He wants to see more fear. It's like the boy gave up before he even came out here, and there's no satisfaction in that. "You wanted me to hurt you, because you knew you deserved it," he spits, voice still eerily quiet. "Who told you that, fagboy? And why didn't you listen? Or maybe you did. Someone hurt you before. Someone you cared about. I guess he saw you for what you are."

He sits back, and slaps Greg across the face again, and there's a black eye beginning, a swollen lip, and Marcus reacts with frustration, slamming his fists again and again into Greg's stomach. It's not enough though. Not nearly enough.

"I bet he saw you were filthy," he remarks after a minute, surveying Greg's face, trying to hurt him. "With your spiky hair and your girl's make-up." He reaches into his pocket then, palming his knife, and brings it out to show it to Greg. He wants to see fear, he wants to see repentance. He opens the blade, and uses it to saw off a couple of clumps of Greg's hair, taking the spikes and cutting them away at the base until the hair remaining is short and messy.

He takes the knife to his mouth, surveying his handiwork, and licks the blade, looking down at Greg and raising an eyebrow.

"Scared yet?" he asks, softly.

Greg's eyes close briefly against the pain, the pain the truth of this asshole's words cause in him. How does this guy know? he wonders. Because that's it, isn't it? Nick left because he saw something wrong in Greg, saw his love of S&M as tainted. Well, that and the cheating, but that's just as dirty, in fact moreso.

Greg is a little scared when the guy pulls out his knife, but he tries to hide it. Of course he can't help but squirm as he starts to cut patches out of his hair. He knows it seems conceited, but his hair is the one thing Greg's always liked about himself. It's the one thing that gave him any sort of confidence in how he looked. He's just glad that these fucks are probably going to kill him so he won't have to look at himself in the mirror. He only hopes that his friends have enough decency to give him a close casket ceremony.

Marcus can see he's struck a nerve, because the boy's face crumples. People are so damn easy. It's just like the pastor says. People sin for the same reasons, all the time. Fear, mostly. And who on this earth has not been hurt by someone they love? It's too, too easy.

He looks up at his cohorts, and they're watching with some fascination. One of them makes to touch Greg, and Marcus hisses at him, like a cat protecting the corpse of a mouse it's caught. The other guy steps back. Marcus isn't done yet. He slips his knife under the collar of Greg's t-shirt, and tears the fabric away from his body in strips, until he's naked from the waist up.

He surveys Greg, head cocked to one side, and then makes his decision. "You don't know what you are, how filthy you are," he says, voice almost kind. "But after tonight everyone else is going to know." He sits back and turns Greg, leaning down and holding his arms away from his body. He nods at his gang, and two of them step forward to hold Greg's wrists, one of them deliberately squeezing the broken bones of Greg's left hand.

Marcus takes the knife in his hand, and strips away the last bit of cloth, hissing in appreciation when he sees Greg's scars. "You see, you're ALREADY marked," he whispers, pressing Greg's face into the filthy ground. "God hates what you do."

He takes the knife carefully, and presses the tip into Greg's shoulder, slicing thinly over the skin, and the others tighten their grip in anticipation of Greg's struggles. Marcus grins at the sounds Greg's making, and begins to write.

Greg's stayed as calm and cool as possible, but he just can't do it anymore as his shirt is cut away from his body. He thought he didn't care if he died or not and then, suddenly, he thought of Rachel. He knows that if he doesn't make it out of this that Nick would take care of her, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to see her again. Only then does he struggle. He knows it's futile, but he starts to fight despite it being too late. They manage to turn him too easily and this time he can't stop the groan of pain that escapes him as the broken bones his hands are ground together.

It's only been within the last couple of years that Greg's come to accept his scars, and actually grow to like them. They're highly sensitive, which is great in bed and they mark him in a way that he always thought showed his strength, showed what he lived through. All that was about to change. He knows it as he feels the blade cut into his skin. That's it, he can't hold it back this time. Greg opens his mouth and screams.

Marcus grins without humour, and nods to another one of his lackeys, who crouches by Greg's head and roughly covers his mouth with hands that smell of garlic and beer. Marcus takes his time with each of the letters, cutting through scar and clean skin, completing each letter with a slight flourish, until the word is done, blood leaking across Greg's back. He smears the blood away impatiently, but it wells up almost instantly, painting the word in red over the naked skin.

W H O R E.

Marcus nods, satisfied, pushing Greg over, and smiling down at him as he licks the knife blade once again.

"Now everyone will know," he says, softly. "Know what you are." He stands, then, clicking the knife shut and sliding it back into his pocket. He looks at the rest of them, and they look back with slightly awed eyes. This is the furthest they've ever gone, and he's won their respect through it. Greg's bleeding on the ground, and Marcus leans down and takes a handful of foetid dirt from the alley floor, taking great pleasure in wiping it over Greg's face, over his mouth, forcing him to taste it.

And then he spits on Greg. "Dirty whore," he whispers, and turns to leave.

Greg continues to squirm for awhile, but soon gives up. He has no idea what he's carving into his back, and truthfully, he doesn't want to know. He fights tears that prick his eyes as it dawns on him that he's not going to die. Despite his wish to see Rachel, something makes him think that he's going to be too ashamed to see her again once he finds out for sure what that word is.

The dirt gets everywhere, up his nose, in his mouth, in what's left of his hair and he chokes on it slightly. It's only then that he realizes how much it hurts to breath and he wonders if he's broken a rib or something. He hears them start to walk away and he just lies there, no energy or will to move.

Marcus looks back and smiles. "See you later," he calls, cruelly, and gets into the Buick driven by his friend.

---

Marcia has barely stepped outside the club before she's digging into her purse for a cigarette. Paul's behind her, whining about it, how she should quit, how it's bad for her, and she knows it is, but hell, working all day in a call centre is worse. Paul leans against the building out of the wind, sulking, and then has the audacity to try and bum one off her. She turns away from him, and walks to the edge of the alley, trying to get out of the wind enough to light the fucking thing. She gives a start as something gives a rustle behind her, and she's pretty sure it's a cat. But then... She's many things, and in their argument this evening, Paul's called her most of them, a bitch, a spoiled brat who's only out to party, a commitment phobe - from him of all people! - but she's not a coward, and she's good at heart. She braces up her courage, and steps into the alley.

For a moment she's sure that the guy is dead, beaten to crap and covered in dirt, but then she sees his eyelids flicker, and she screams to her boyfriend. "Paul. Holy fuck. Oh holy fuck. Get a fucking ambulance." She's instantly on her knees beside Greg, to hell with her party dress, and she uses her scarf to try and clean the crap off the guy's face. "It's okay, honey," she says, softly. "Hang on, okay, we're going to get you some help."

Tue, 03 Oct 2006 03:28:52 GMT

Who: Jude
When: Current
Where: Phonecall to start

Greg's gone through many emotional states since Nick walked out their... scratch that, his front door. Right now he's lodged fully in trying to understand what went wrong, what he's done wrong, starting with his interest in the S&M world. He knows that it's one of the underlying reasons for Nick leaving. He knows that Nick hates it about him and that it's one of the reasons he can't resist Tim.

He's also heard that Maria's back in town and figures she, or one of her employees, could at least give him some advice on what to do.

With a sigh, he puts Rachel down for her nap and picks up the phone, dialing the number for the House of Whacks.

Mon, 25 Sep 2006 19:34:16 GMT

Who: Nick via email
Where: Greg's at home
When: current

Greg's drunk, again. He's been drinking more and more since Nick left and all he can think is that at least he's not on drugs again. He knows he probably shouldn't be drunk with Rachel around, but she's asleep and has taken to sleeping the whole night through, or so he justifies it to himself.

He's bored and his fifth glass of whiskey on the rocks isn't helping like it should. He feels empty and alone. He misses Nick more than he's ever missed anyone and he doesn't know how to get over it. Before he knows it, he finds himself sitting at the computer and starting an email to him. He hadn't even intended on emailing Nick, but now that he's here, he might as well. It's not like it could hurt anything at this point.

To: nstokes@miami-dade.org
From: gsanders@miami-dade.org

I dn't evn know why I'm writing thiss. I know I've messed everythhning up and I'e loest oyu forever, but I miss you and I just sat down and started wrigitn. I'm so sorry for everything Nciky. I'm sorry I hurt you, I know you don't believe it but I never meant to hrut you. I just never believed that I deserved someoen as good as you. I didn't mean it when I siad I don't know waht love is because I love you. I'm sorry, I know it's over, that I fucked up beyond you ever wanting me again,b ut I thought you should know.

I hope you're doing better at home. I know how much you've missed your parents. I'm sure they're so happy to see you and I bet they were happy to see you and all that. I don't even know what I'm asying anymore. I just want you to be happy. That's all I vever wanted for you.

I'm sor sorry,
Greg.

He hits send, tears streaming down his face, and heads to the couch where he passes out into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Sun, 03 Sep 2006 06:10:18 GMT

Who: Dr. Marta Hendersen
When: Immediately after Nick finds out about Greg and Tim
Where: Phonecall to start.

Greg feels numb, totally and completely numb. He's never fucked up so badly in his whole life. He's never managed to hurt someone so badly before, especially not someone he cares so damned much about. He's nauseous and shaking and he has no idea what to do.

Finally, after wandering aimlessly around the all too quiet house for god knows how long, he picks up the phone and dials Dr. Hendersen. He hadn't been to see her in awhile as he'd been doing so well. Looks like it had all been an illusion, one that had even fooled Greg himselff.

He taps his foot impatiently, waiting for someone to answer the damned phone.

Continued from the thread in the weapons room on the main page.

Sun, 27 Aug 2006 06:01:22 GMT

Who: Timmy and Greggo
Where: The weapons room
What: An immediate continuation from here

Greg laughs, but it sounds a bit nervous. There's still an air in the room of sexual tension and he's not really sure what's going to happen or what to do. "Yeah, isn't cleaning it a necessity?" he asks, trying to sound casual.

He gives Tim an odd look. "Last I heard he was called out to a scene. Something about a three car pile up on the interstate," he says, sounding curious. "Why?"

Sun, 21 May 2006 15:53:16 GMT

Who: Greg's shrink, session number 2
Where: Her office
When: current, about a week after the last session.

Greg's nervously sitting in his car outside of Dr. Hendersen's office, clutching a piece of paper with his feelings on it. Writing them down and just generally thinking about them was really hard to do. He just hopes it's good enough for her. He reads the list again, for the millionth time.

I feel happy whenever I see Nick, no matter what.
I feel happy and loved whenever I see my daughter.
I feel uncomfotable when Nick tries to read me or read into what I'm saying.
I feel scared when I have to talk about anything personal.
I feel sad and upset when I disappoint someone I love.
I feel upset when I make someone talk about something they don't want to talk about
I feel happy when I get attention.
I feel relieved that people still love me after everything I've done.
I feel embarrassed at other people's perceptions of me, whether they are good or bad doesn't matter.

He had wanted to add in how good he'd felt when Nick told him that he and Josh had fought because of him, but he didn't know how to express it, so he just left it out, figuring he could bring it up if he really wanted to, which he kinda does. He reads over the paper one more time, noticing that it has the feel of a kid writing lines as punishment, but he couldn't think of a better way to write it down. Not that it matters, it's too late to change it now.

He finally gets out of his car, albeit a bit slowly, and heads into the office. The secretaray nods to him and says he's free to go right in. He notes her slight smile again and wonders if she's just being polite. Nick's always telling him that all these girls are attracted to him and ever since that woman at the hospital last year with all the aura talk, he keeps wondering if a girl is flirting or just being polite every time they're nice.

Without another thought about girls, he knocks on Dr. Hendersen's door, waiting for her response. He knows he can probably just go right in, but that always seemed rude to him and it would make him uncomfortable.

Sun, 07 May 2006 20:19:37 GMT

Who: Aiden
Where: Starting with a phonecall, end of shift.
When: The day after Greg goes to interview Hiram, Ray visits Nick and Nick confronts Greg about the cheating. Before Greg starts going to the shrink.

Greg doesn't even know why he bothered to come into work today. He does his best to stay on track, but considering the case he's working, it's kind of hard not to get distracted. Thankfully there wasn't much going on with the case today. Just a revisit to the scene and some research on the other similar cases that Frank had come across. The detective had been right, there was something very similar about those cases, they just needed to find something concrete.

He's sitting in the breakroom, feeling incredibly relieved that the shift is over, but still feeling generally shitty. What he needs is to get this out, to someone impartial that he trusts. He's already set up an appointment with a shrink, but that's not for a couple of days and he wants to talk now. Normally he'd talk to Nick, but he just can't do that with this, for obvious reasons. Once upon a time he would've even tried going to Tim, but not only does he know that that's a stupid mistake that he'll never make again, he also hasn't seen him since he took off to New York. He's heard rumour that he's back in town, but he's trying resolutely not to care. The only other person that comes to mind is Aiden. He owes her an explanation for yesterday too.

He pulls out his cell and dials her number. Listening to to it ring, he hopes she's free.

Thu, 04 May 2006 11:07:34 GMT

Who: Greg's new shrink
Where: The shrink's office
When: Current.

Greg's nervous, really nervous. He's aware that he never should've stopped going to a psychiatrist, or rather, he should've seen the signs indicating that he needed to go back to one when he got here. He'd seen one in Vegas, after the explosion, but all they'd dealt with is the explosion and considering the problems he's had since arriving in Miami well over a year ago, it should've been plainly obvious that he was nowhere near ready to not be seeing someone.

He can't help but think that he stopped going because it wasn't getting him anywhere, which seems realistic, but he doesn't know whether or not that's true, or it's just the excuse he's built up in his head because he absolutely hates the idea of delving any deeper into his inner thoughts than he already has. Talking about the explosion had been easier than dealing with the things he really needed to deal with and he realizes now that he'd just been going through the motions so he could go back to work.

Greg reaches the door of the doctor's office and hesitates only slightly before walking into the reception area. He decided not to go with the lab recommended shrink this time and chose his own. The lab doctors seem different to him and he wants to get away from that. There's twenty-something, fairly pretty probably hot, if you were straight girl sitting behind a desk. She informs him that he can go in when he's ready and goes back to her filing after giving him a soft smile.

He gives her a tight, nervous nod and heads back to the next room, figuring the sooner he gets in there, the sooner he gets this over with. After a brief knock, he walks into the room, holding his breath without even realizing it.

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 06:59:22 GMT

Who: Nick
Where: Nick's place
When: The day Greg finds out he failed his proficiency, a few days before St. Patty's day.

Failing his proficiency was the proverbial straw that broke Greg's back. He doesn't even remember how he got it, as he sits there on Nick's living room floor, needle in his arm and all his cares flying out the window. He just knows that it must have been easy to get, either that or he remembers how to get drugs with no connections way to well. It takes only seconds for Greg to be back in that special place that only junkies know about, a place he's missed entirely too much, a place he now realizes he just can't do without. The world sucks and he doesn't want to fight anymore.

Nick still isn't due home for awhile, which at first was the reason why Greg did it now. He figured that he'd get high and have enough time to mellow out a bit before Nick got home so he could actually deal with telling him what a failure he really is... that is if Nick doesn't already know. Greg's heroin highs are strange, he starts off mellow, euphoric, and then gets a strange burst of energy before mellowing out again. He manages to clean the whole apartment from top to bottom during his energy spurt. He's just mellowing out again and sitting on the floor, considering another 'last' hit when he hears Nick's key in the door. He can't quite look up from the little balloon as he hears the door open.

Thu, 19 Jan 2006 10:07:09 GMT

Who: Sara
When: Christmas Day (yes, I know, we're behind)
What: phone call to start.

Greg gets out of the shower at Nick's place and dries himself off slowly. He's a little nervous about calling Sara because he's not really sure when the last time he saw her was, and he feels that he's letting her down. He hasn't been nearly enough support for her lately. Then again, he hasn't really been any help to anyone in a long time. He just hopes he can get his head together before his daughter is born.

He grabs his cell phone as he leaves the bathroom, stomach growling again as he smells the turkey. He wonders if Nick knows how to make gravy, he loves gravy. He flips open his phone and dials Sara, hoping she's not going to kill him because he either saw her while wasted and totally pissed her off, or suddenly dropped off the planet for a few days. Either way, she can't be too happy with him.

He shifts nervously from foot to foot as he listens to the phone ring on the other end.

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 06:53:17 GMT

Who: Ray
Where: Phone call to start. After that, who knows?
When: After the fight with Nick and after getting picked up at the bar by Timmy, definitely after all the stripper stuff, but before Christmas. Phew! I think that's it.

Greg folded and unfolded the piece of paper he had in his pocket over and over again. On the piece of paper was a phone number, a phone number he had stolen from Speed, a phone number that could easily be the best and worst thing for him. Greg's at his wits end, he must be if he's considering calling Ray Caine about drugs. He just doesn't know what to do anymore, and the thought of sleeping is almost worst than the dreams he has.

He unfolds the paper one more time and sighs before pulling out his cell and dialing. He's starting to feel just this side of sober and that's just not good. He listens to it ring and wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

Wed, 28 Dec 2005 19:59:00 GMT

Who: Timmy
Where: Some random bar
When: A couple of hours after Greg's fight with Nick. (Before Christmas)

After leaving Nick's, for what Greg feared to be the last time, it didn't take him long to get completely smashed at the first bar he found. The bar tender had just stopped serving him and he sat swaying on his barstool, trying to figure out where to go and how to get there. He may not be feeling much like living at this point, but he's not about to drink and drive. Taking other, innocent people out with you just isn't cool.

Greg wrestles his cell phone out of his pocket, fully intent on calling Sara. She'll probably be pissed at him, but he doesn't really care right now. Little does he know that he's hit the wrong speed dial number and he isn't calling who he thinks he is... Humming a song that might sound like 'Love Song' by the Cure if he wasn't completely off his face, he waits for someone to answer the phone.

Thu, 22 Dec 2005 08:05:07 GMT

Who: Nick
Where: The beach, though it starts with a drunken phone call
When: Christmas Eve.

It's really a good thing that the stripper case is over for the most part, because Greg is in no condition to work. Thankfully, he had a lot of overtime and managed to get time off for the holidays because he's been drunk ever since he left Nick's after their huge blowout. The last couple of days that's been heightened by the speed he finally managed to score. It's been a rollercoaster ride of emotions ever since then and he honestly doesn't really remember much of it. Which is why it's not surprising that he suddenly realizes that he's on the beach and he has no idea how he got there. He finds this realization momentarily scary, but then he's over taken by the feelings caused by lots of booze and speed again. He can't think why people say it's bad to take uppers and downers at the same time because he feels great.

Except that he's crying and shaking and he's not really sure what's going on anymore.

And it's happening again. He's done something without even realizing that he's done it. All he knows is that suddenly he's got his cell phone to his ear and it's ringing, but for the life of him he's not sure who he called, though he does have his suspicions. The only reason he really noticed is because the sound of 'Love Song' by the Cure suddenly turned into a loud ringing. He looks down and sees his earphones lying in the sand, the end of the song still playing through them.

He almost jumps when he hears someone pick up on the other end of the line.

Wed, 21 Dec 2005 06:46:25 GMT

Who: Nick
When: Right after leaving his session at the House of Whacks
Where: Nick's place.

Greg knows that he has to tell Nick what he just did and he wants to do it A.S.A.P. Putting it off would only make things worse, that is, if Nick does really hate what he's done. He hopes that he doesn't, that he'll understand that this is just something that he needed to do, but he has a very bad feeling that Nick just might not understand. It's quite the internal debate for him. On one hand a session at the House is a stress reliever of the magnatude that Greg's never felt before, on the other hand he really doesn't want to upset Nick, not for anything, and he knows that Nick doesn't really understand this part of him.

Nervously, he parks at Nick's place and heads up to his apartment. Using his key, he unlocks the door. He doesn't know if Nick's even home from work yet. If he isn't, he'll just hang out and wait for him.

Wed, 14 Dec 2005 06:51:03 GMT

Who: Nick
Where: Nick's place
When: Right after the incident with Timmy in the alleyway.

Greg waited, slumped against the wall in the alley for a good half an hour after Tim left, wanting to make sure he was really and truly gone. Well, that and he needed to compose himself. "God, I can't believe how fucking stupid I am," he mumbles to himself. He just can't believe that after everything he knows about Tim, that he thought that they could be friends. More than anything, this thought sadens him. He actually likes hanging out with Tim, but he knows now that that will never be possible, not if Tim is constantly going to try to jump him. He has no idea what made Tim change like that, so suddenly. One second they're walking along, having a nice normal conversation and the next thing he knows Tim's pinning him up against a wall. Greg's upset, confused and hurt and there's only one place he can think of to go, to make him feel better.

He looks down at his watch. It's a little too early for Nick to be home from work, but Greg feels like walking and he figures that by the time he walks there, he'll have a better chance of catching him, especially if he takes a senic route, which he does. After a nice long walk, he finally makes it to Nick's place, still feeling upset, confused and hurt, but still feeling a bit better as he realizes that Tim always evokes those feelings in him. He figures the fresh air must have helped too.

Walking slowly up to Nick's apartment, he knocks, hoping that he's allowed enough time and that Nick's home.

Thu, 08 Dec 2005 10:48:00 GMT

Who: Maria
How: Phonecall
When: After Sara finds out about his nightmares.

Greg can't take it anymore. He's under too much stress and he knows that that's what's causing his nightmares, causing him to not sleep and he can't do it anymore. The last time this happened, it didn't bother him as much because he was really only hurting himself. Now his problem seems to be hurting everyone around him. Everytime he sees Nick looking thoroughly zombie-like at work after he's spent the night, everytime he wakes up Sara and startles their unborn baby because he's so loud, he knows it's because of him, because he can't let go of all the tension in his life.

The last time he'd desperately needed to lose some tension his life had changed dramatically and he's not willing to let it go that far again.

Still, Greg learned something from his time with Tim and that was that even though the sex was really good, it wasn't really about the sex for him, it was how Tim could force him to let go. That's what he needs right now, to let go. There's no way he's going to Tim though, Tim isn't what he needs anymore and there's no way he'd risk what he has with Nick.

Greg sits on his bed contemplating all this, on one of his rare times at home. He had just stopped in to change his clothes before going back to work when he had been over come with exhaustion and realized that he can't keep this up. One thought occurs to him, during his contemplation and it seems like the obvious solution. A way for him to release tension, the way he knows how, without it being sexual.

He picks up his cell phone and scrolls through his saved numbers, searching for a number he hasn't called in a long time. He finds it after a bit and dials it immediately. He knows that Maria probably isn't doing sessions, but she's at least got to have an idea about what he can do, or recommend someone else.

He listens to the phone ring, and waits for her answer.

Christmas Wish List.

Thu, 01 Dec 2005 21:35:11 GMT

Ganked from Tink/Sara

Step One

Make a post (public, friendslocked, filtered...whatever you're comfortable with) to your LJ. The post should contain your list of 10 holiday wishes. The wishes can be anything at all, from simple and fandom-related ("I'd love a Snape/Hermione icon that's just for me") to medium ("I wish for _____ on DVD") to really big ("All I want for Christmas is a new car/computer/house/TV.") The important thing is, make sure these wishes are things you really, truly want.

If you wish for real life things (not fics or icons), make sure you include some sort of contact info in your post, whether it's your address or just your email address where Santa (or one of his elves) could get in touch with you.

Also, make sure you post some version of these guidelines in your LJ, or link to this post (it'll be public) so that the holiday joy will spread.

Step Two

Surf around your friendslist (or friendsfriends, or just random journals) to see who has posted their list. And now here's the important part:

If you see a wish you can grant, and it's in your heart to do so, make someone's wish come true. Sometimes someone's trash is another's treasure, and if you have a leather jacket you don't want or a gift certificate you won't use--or even know where you could get someone's dream purebred Basset Hound for free--do it.

You needn't spend money on these wishes unless you want to. The point isn't to put people out, it's to provide everyone a chance to be someone else's holiday elf--to spread the joy. Gifts can be made anonymously or not--it's your call.

There are no rules with this project, no guarantees, and no strings attached. Just...wish, and it might come true. Give, and you might receive. And you'll have the joy of knowing you made someone's holiday special.

Greg wishes for (in no particular order):

1. A night of restful sleep (ie no nightmares).
2. To successfully get his proficiency
3. To have his daughter be healthy
4. To grow old with Nick.
5. To be able to save money so that he and Nick can actually go to Hong Kong in a year.
6. To be friends with Ryan again.
7. To have a beer with Tim.
9. To lose himself dancing at a club.
10. To talk to his parents without them being ashamed of him.

Lexa wishes for:

1. To pay off her credit card debt.
2. To go back to NY, but this time with Sarah, to meet Sharon and Rachel again.
3. To go to New Zealand.
4. To eat suishi in Japan and wonton soup in Hong Kong with Greta.
5. To not be so tired all the time.
6. To lose weight.
7. To win the lottery and become a recluse.
8. To have a paid lj account.
9. To have someone show her how to make a custom mood theme if she ever gets the paid account.
10. To be able to get the goddamned money out stupid fucking paypal!

Thu, 24 Nov 2005 06:59:57 GMT

Who: Tim
Where: The lab to start with
When: The day after his argument with Sara, his next time at work after his night of nightmares with Nick.

Greg's worried about Sara. She seemed certain that Tim would want to be their for the birth of their daughter, but Greg just can't see the Tim he knows wanting that. He's worried that Sara's in for a let down, and she doesn't deserve that. He's not mad at all anymore, about the things she said to him. He's fully convinced that she's just stressed out with the pregnancy and everything and lets it slide, but he wants to know how much of what she said about Tim was an actuality and how much was just what she hopes for. He knows that he should just talk to her, but with the way things went last time, he figures it's a waste of time.

He manages to track Tim down in the breakroom. "Hey," he says a bit tentatively. All is cool between them, but it's still a little weird. Not that that's anything new. He never really knew where he stood with Tim. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 19:31:44 GMT

your NERD info by LOREALisMYname
name
month of birth
you major in...	Math
you suck....	cock
you cry when you get a....	A
most people say...	"You need to get that pole out of your ass"

Quiz created with MemeGen!

When I can't sleep, I go online...

Well, I don't know about the pole up the ass, unless they mean.... but the rest of it? hahahahaha

Dork, Geek, Nerd? by buraisho
Your Name
Type	Nerdy (Super Smart)
Specialty	Graphics
Always Seen With	a GBA SP
Fashion Style	Stray Jacket
Mode of Transportation	Razor Scooter (No Pads!)
Popularity	Very Popular

Quiz created with MemeGen!

What Geek Quote Would You Scream During Sex? by R1x0r
Name
Gender
Age
What You Would Scream	"OMFG!!!!1SHIFT1"

Quiz created with MemeGen!

I have always wanted a scooter, but what's a stray jacket? Did they mean straight jacket? A lot of people would agree that I need that. *nods*

Ahahahahahahaha!!!!!

Tue, 15 Nov 2005 09:21:42 GMT

Who: Nick
Where: The locker room at the lab.
When: current, in the middle of working on the stripper case.

Greg sat in the locker room, head in his hands. He'd just come in to change his clothes in the middle of yet another double. He's exhausted, but he knows that if he leaves he'll just sit up all night thinking about the case, so he might as well just stick around and be useful. Problem is, even though his mind won't let him sleep, his body is desperatly trying to disagree. He's already had more cups of Blue Hawaiin than he can count and he's taken a couple of caffeine pills. He pulls the bottle of pills out of his locker and looks at the label and looks at his watch. He's not supposed to take any more for another few hours, but he needs them now. He pops the lid and shakes a couple into his hand.

Tue, 18 Oct 2005 05:31:26 GMT

Who: Sara
Where: Their condo
When: Around now.

Greg's had a tough day at work. He's working harder than usual, now that his work on the stripper case has become his proficiency to make it to level two. He's still a little shocked that Grissom thought he was ready. He's noticed a big change in Grissom since he's come back to Miami and he's just starting to trust that it's a real one. Too bad he's gone away again. He's still worried about someone else judging his proficiency. At least with Grissom he knows what to expect.

He walks to the kitchen and starts making himself some coffee the second he walks in the door. Sure, he had more cups than he cares to remember at work, but it's been one of those days and coffee is like comfort food to him. He plans on calling Nick later, just because that makes him feel better too, but right now he just wants to drink his coffee and see how Sara's doing.

"Hey Sara, I'm home," he calls. "You around?"