Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
by Buffyangel68
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"Yeah... I don't know what we're gonna have to talk about."
"You mean because of your memory loss?"
"Nothing there, nothing to work through, right?"
"Not necessarily. GHB is a very powerful drug. It robs you of control and will as well as memory. For some people... couldn't fight back turns into 'didn't' fight back which leads to 'this is my fault somehow'. Even if they don't have a single memory of being violated, the guilt and self-blame start piling on. You're very lucky to have someone who cares about you as much as Nick. He did the right thing in convincing you to get help early, before your mind and your emotions turned on you and you turned on your friends."
"I told you that won't happen."
"Greg. This is my specialty, remember? I've seen it too many times and I know better."
"You don't know *me*. I'm strong... and I have the best people in the... world around me to hold me up." Greg countered, sitting forward and clearly becoming agitated.
"I've counseled guys who look like Rambo and sound like James Earl Jones who fell into my arms and cried like babies. Strength isn't the deciding factor, Greg, and friends... they're essential to recovery, but they can't do it for you and they can't be at your side 24/7 for the rest of your life."
"They won't have to. I'll get past this in time."
"On the surface, maybe. But inside things will get worse and worse. Sexual assault twists emotions, Greg. You walk around like one big, endless ball of knotted up rubber bands, waiting for an excuse to snap and lash out at someone, to make them feel your pain. The only thing that'll straighten it all out is talking through what happened."
Greg suddenly exploded up off the couch, his face radiating fury.
"There's nothing to talk about! How many times can I say that?!"
"We can discuss how angry you are right now." Cynthia replied quietly. The black balloon of rage building inside Greg deflated and he slowly sank back down to the sofa, his head in his hands.
"It's not anger... not really. It's frustration that... nobody listens." He explained, his voice rough and harsh from the stress he'd put on it.
"I'm all ears."
Greg sighed heavily and lay down on his side, pulling his knees up protectively and curling a pillow into his chest.
"I'll have to say it in court, won't I?"
"Possibly. From what Nick's told me, they might not need you to testify, though."
"What if... what if I want to?"
"I'm sure if it's something you need to do to heal, a meeting with one or both men can be arranged."
"I was supposed to be there to... see their interrogations. It was all set up, but..."
"You were attacked the second time."
"Yeah. That... I wish I could forget."
"Are you having nightmares about it?"
"I thought I would. I had a bad one the... first day I was home. I was napping in my room... Nick was out here on the couch. I woke up thrashing around and... so scared I couldn't breathe. I came out here and slept... in the recliner. No more nightmares."
"Do you think it was Nick's presence or would anyone being close by have made it better?"
"Nick. Definitely Nick. He loves me. That makes me feel safe."
"That's important right now."
"Almost more than anything."
"Almost?"
"Most important... is that he makes me brave. I look in his eyes and I can... see how strongly he believes in me. He won't let me give up, no matter what. He understands sometimes I need... to back off, but he never lets me... run too far."
"Wow. That's a powerful statement. You love him too, don't you?"
"I have for a while. It took this to... make us both say it. I wish the... attack had never happened, but it... got us to be honest with each other, so... "
"Yes, that's what counts. Intimacy won't be easy for either of you."
"We know. We talked about it a little."
"I might be able to help, if the both of you are willing to give it a shot."
Greg sat up slowly and studied Cynthia intently.
"Together? Nick and me?"
"That's the idea. I've put my own twists on touch therapy. It might be just the thing to help the two of you."
"Touch therapy? I think I've heard of that."
"Tell me what you know about it."
"It's supposed to be for couples where... one partner or the other has issues with sex... or just being touched in general. I think you start with the hands... or the face, I can't remember. You keep working until you get to... sexual touches."
"Excellent. You're right on all counts. I add a lot of talk in between the touching, though."
"While they're reconnecting you get them... to open up about what made them afraid... in the first place."
Cynthia's eyebrows arched up slightly and she smiled.
"Very insightful. I'm impressed."
"If I didn't have insight Grissom would've..."
Greg let the sentence trail off, his face going pale.
"Your job is still there, Greg. Nick told me that Gil and Catherine both assured you of that. All we have to do is get you back on your emotional feet so you can go reclaim it."
Cynthia paused for a few moments, watching Greg carefully, then she reached down into the large satchel at her side and brought out a sketch pad and a large box of colored pencils and laid them on the table. "I tell you what. Let's give both our voices a rest, okay? You draw, I'll go make you some more tea."
Greg gave the pad a singularly skeptical glance then favored Cynthia with the same look.
"I suck at drawing."
"That's okay. Doodle if that's what you feel like. It's just something to keep you occupied during the break." She assured him, rising and heading for the kitchen. "Milk in your tea?"
"No. Lots of honey. Warm, not hot."
"Protect the healing throat. I understand."
As Cynthia started the tea, Greg picked up the pad and stared at the cover for a long moment. Flipping back the cardboard cover, he gave the first blank page the same treatment, but eventually his gaze shifted to the open pencil case. His fingers hovered momentarily over one color after another, but eventually he chose a deep blue and began to apply it hesitantly to the top inch or two of the sheet of paper. As Cynthia returned with his mug, she watched his efforts briefly then moved back to the recliner and began to take notes on the session so far.
For a while, Cynthia kept her attention strictly on her notebook, allowing Greg to be in his own quiet world. When she did finally sneak a glance she caught him frowning at his drawing and holding it out at arm's length, tilting his head slightly to the left and then to the right. She broke the silence at last with soft chuckle and a wry comment.
"My Lord... now I see why Nick fell for you. One glimpse of you in an unguarded moment and he'd have been helpless."
"Are you trying to say I'm cute?" Greg asked, mock-sarcastically.
"Very. Am I allowed to see what you drew?"
"You sure about that?"
"Of course."
Greg handed the pad over reluctantly, but Cynthia's first glimpse of his work brought a gasp and wide eyes. Under the midnight blue strip at the top, Greg had layered crimson, violet, orange and yellow overlapping and side by side, cascading down the page. At the bottom, black sections blended randomly into a light gray shade and occasional white highlights dotted the darkness. "This... is your definition of "I suck at drawing" ?" she asked incredulously.
"It's just color."
"It's wonderful, that's what it is. Sunset on the ocean has never looked so beautiful."
"Is that what it is?" Greg asked, genuinely surprised.
"You weren't really trying for anything specific, then."
"No."
"That's often when our subconscious takes over. Nick said you used to spend a lot of time on the water."
"Back home in Cali, yeah. I surfed and... scuba-dived whenever I could."
"You miss it."
"Lake Mead is okay... but it's not the same. Can I..."
When he gestured, Cynthia handed his drawing back. He gazed at it longingly and she was gratified to see his tense expression soften and relax as the drawing conjured up good memories to displace the bad. "You know, this is pretty much right on. My favorite part of surfing was being... out in the water as the sun went down. Straddling a board, the waves rocking me... it was just completely peaceful. The sky goes up forever and... the water goes dark and you forget it's there... so it's like you're floating in space watching the... most incredible colors shift and change and darken. And then the... stars start coming out and it's like fireworks."
Cynthia released a long, quiet breath.
"Wow. Quite a way with words you have there. You want that back very badly. It's in your voice and your eyes. I can help you get there, Greg."
"How long?"
"No way of telling. After a severe trauma, everyone heals at their own pace. It won't be easy, but you've got the will and the courage. The first step will be getting you past the denial phase."
"Denial? Of what? I answered your questions, did what you asked..."
"But you can't put a real name on what happened to you. It's okay for now. It's only been a week or two since you were raped. It'll take some time and work, but you'll get there."
"I'm giving it power by not calling it what it is."
"Right. Very good."
Abruptly, determination and anger resurfaced in Greg's face, but Cynthia sensed a different source for the emotions this time. When he responded, she wanted to cheer and praise him but she held off. The time for celebration would be coming, but he wasn't ready yet.
"I want it back. I want my power back, damn it! They had no right to do... what they did. They stole everything... my dignity, my right to... say no... the best parts of... my life! I want it... all back!" he stated emphatically, his breathing sliding closer and closer to hyperventilation.
"Easy, Greg. I understand. You need to relax right now, though, okay? Slow your breathing down."
"I... I can't. Can't catch... my breath."
"Close your eyes for me, Greg. Go back to that sunset you were describing. Remember how peaceful you said it was? Try and feel that... picture yourself on your board, gently moving with the waves. It's quiet... and dark. You're safe there. Relaxed... laid-back... and safe. Good. Breathe slow... better."
Gradually, Greg began to calm and the terrifying tightness in his chest eased.
"Yeah... better. I'm sorry..."
"No, don't apologize for your feelings. Not ever. Anger betrayal, sadness... you're entitled to all of those and more. Like I said, the fact that you're showing your emotions instead of suppressing them is a really positive sign."
Fatigue showing in his face, Greg shivered, clutched Nick's key tighter and dropped onto his side again, retrieving the throw pillow and hugging it against him.
"Do you think Nick's coming back soon?"
Accepting the non-response as a clear sign that Greg was ready to stop, Cynthia smiled and gathered up the drawing materials, tearing off Greg's drawing and leaving it on the table.
"He should be. I can stay until he gets here."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
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JIM AND BLAIR'S HOTEL:
"No. Because Jim and I took this trip to be alone... your approval isn't high on my list of priorities right now. Your name? I haven't said your name because I don't feel like it. You think I'm angry? Gee, what an insight, good for you. Sarcastic. Yeah, I guess I'm that too. I'm not interested. Look I have to go... Excuse me? If I'm too pissed to call you by your given name, acknowledging that you gave birth to me is out of the question! Yeah, peace and love to you too." Blair growled, slamming his cell phone shut. Jim's hand around his wrist was the only thing that saved the smaller man's cell phone from violent contact with the far wall of the hotel room. Ellison stripped the device out of Blair's hand, tossed it on the bed behind him and drew his lover into his embrace, refusing to let go until Blair's breathing and heart-rate had slowed and the tension had drained out of Sandburg's back and shoulders.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"No. I wanna get back down to the crime lab and get started on the search."
"We need to call Captain Brass first. He won't be awake 'till tonight."
"I need to do something to get my mind off... her."
"What don't we get dressed an' go find the gym? You can try and sweat her out of your system."
"Yeah. That could work. But just so you know, I'm still not exactly happy with you. You had no right to say that stuff about her around Greg and Nick."
"There goes 'Paradox Sandburg' again. I'm allowed to commiserate with how mad you are at Naomi, but if I say the slightest negative thing to anybody else, I get the cold shoulder. Why is that?"
"She confuses the living hell out of me, Jim. Why shouldn't I share the fun and laughter?"
"Oh. You haven't got a clue either, huh?"
"Not at the moment. Gym, Jim?" Blair asked, pulling away and moving to the dresser to find his work-out clothes.
"That's not fair. I can't do that with your name."
"Get over it and get dressed. If I don't find something big and heavy to hit pretty soon, I'm likely to start using you as a convenient substitute."
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TBC...
