Title: Don't Pray For Me
By: Serenity
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: What if Greg had developed depression after the events of Play with Fire. He'd been able to control it and still became a fully qualified CSI, but the events of Grave Danger caused a severe relapse.
AU for seasons 3 - 6. Inspired by the lyrics from the Little Angels track ‘Don't Pray For Me'

He pulls up outside his parent's house and cuts the engine. So here he is, leaving his old life behind, crawling his way back home to his parents. It's been nearly 15 years since he lived in this neighbourhood, and he wonders if anyone will remember him, the overly excitable bright young kid with his whole life ahead of him. The kid who went to college two years early, his head crammed with dreams for the future. Dreams that came so close to coming true.

He wipes a tear away with the back of his hand. He tells himself it's just a stopgap, until he finds a new job and a new apartment. He didn't have time to organise those things before he left behind the lights of Las Vegas, his work, his friends.... His life. But that life doesn't exist any more. He doubts anyone will really miss him, even Nick will forget him eventually.

48 Hours Earlier

Nick was late home from work, and Greg was beginning to worry. He tried Nick's cell phone every few minutes, but it stubbornly remained switched off. After pacing a groove into the rug, he finally heard the SUV pull into the driveway. He was waiting by the door when Nick entered.

"Hey, where have you been, I've been worried about you. I thought something had happened to you......" The ‘again' remained unspoken on his tongue as he moved to embrace Nick, but his hands were pushed away as Nick sat on the couch, as far away from Greg as possible. Nick looked up at him with tired eyes. "I'm fine, I've been out... just driving, G'. Thinking things over."

"And?" Greg felt his stomach churn, knowing he wouldn't want to hear the answer, but braced himself for it anyway.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I can't take it. I love you Greg, God knows I wanted to make this work, but you're dragging me down with you. I can't cope with the darkness anymore, the mood swings.... I really don‘t want to make things harder for you, but I think it‘s better to do this sooner rather than later. We‘re just delaying the inevitable here."

He rubbed his face with his hands as if he could scrub away the discomfort he was feeling. "I think you should find somewhere else to live." He got up and walked towards the bathroom, stopping beside the doorway and without turning round said in a small voice "As soon as possible."

Greg was stunned into silence. He knew it had been coming, they'd been having problems ever since Greg's depression had reared it's ugly head again, but to hear Nick vocalise his worst fear was just too much for him to take.

He ran to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself against the wall, his head hitting it with a ‘thunk‘, his body sliding down until he ended up in a heap on the floor, and he could feel the familiar blackness enveloping him, sucking him into that dark world that he inhabited all too frequently. He smacked his forehead with the palms of his hands. He refused to let himself fall, not now, giving Nick the satisfaction of being right. Forcing his body up off the floor, he packed a few things into an overnight bag and left without seeing Nick again. He checked himself into a hotel for the day to get some much needed sleep before his shift that night, making sure his medication was in his pocket.

He arrived for his shift that night as usual, hoping no one would notice the red rimmed eyes and swollen lips, a result of crying himself to sleep in an anonymous hotel room. He wasn't ashamed of crying though. At least it was an emotion, a step up from the numb black void his brain usually slipped into when things were at their worst. He opened the bottle of pills and swallowed two of them dry, pulled on his CSI vest and went to get his assignment for the evening.

He doesn't remember the incident himself, just the build up and the aftermath. Brass' report filled in the missing details for him.

They arrived at the scene of a shooting on the strip, the victim still alive, his life blood pumping onto the pavement and into the gutter with every heartbeat. That much he remembered, the rest lost in the cloudy haze of his mind.

They stood back as the paramedics worked hard in a frantic attempt to save the youth. Suddenly, both Greg and Brass spun around to the source of a commotion behind them where a young man was running towards the scene, brandishing a gun. Brass instinctively pulled his piece, but Greg took off running straight at the perpetrator, knocking him to the ground before he had a chance to finish what he started.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Brass yelled at him as the man was arrested. "It's a miracle you weren't killed, Sanders. Do you have a death wish or are you just fucking stupid?"

Greg fingered the small bottle in his pocket and watched the blood trickle down the street. "I‘m not stupid." he sighed to himself.

And that was the beginning of the end.

Greg was called into Grissom's office when he returned to the CSI building. The supervisor looked disapprovingly at him over the lenses of his glasses. "I've just read Brass' report on the shooting incident. It‘s not good."

Greg played with the hem of his jacket and waited for the usual lecture on safety. It didn't come. Instead, Grissom pushed his chair back and looked the young CSI up and down. "This has been the third such incident in recent months where your reckless behaviour has put yourself or others in danger. I know you are on medication for depression and I‘ve tried to make allowances for you, but this is just not acceptable behaviour."

The clock on the wall ticked ominously, breaking the silence in the room. Greg didn't move, didn‘t speak.

"I'm sorry Greg." Grissom tapped his pen on the side of the chair and watched as the light faded behind Greg's eyes. "You're a loose canon. We can't have an unstable personality here at CSI. I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go." He pushed some papers around his desk, finding the one he was looking for. He handed it to Greg.

"Effective immediately. You can clear out your locker now and we'll send you your pay check for this month." He reached a hand out to shake Greg's, but when it went unacknowledged he let it drop down to his side. "Best of luck with future endeavours." With a curt nod he left the office.

Greg looked down at the paper, his hands trembling. It was a formal notice of his dismissal. Slowly he got up and left the office, his body working on automatic, his mind had already began to shut down. All he wanted to do was crawl under a blanket and shut out the world, but that wasn't an option, so he made his way to the locker room to collect his belongings, literally bumping into the one person he didn't want to see.

"Greg... hey." Nick said awkwardly, running his fingers through his dark hair and taking a step backwards. Greg remained silent and continued on his way to the locker room, dialling in his combination. Nick watched as he shoved all his things into a bag and slammed the door shut again, pulling his nameplate off the front.

"What's going on, G'?" he asked. Greg turned towards him, his brown eyes flat and lifeless.

"I've been fired. So I guess there really is nothing to hang around for is there?" A flash of something in those dead eyes, something accusatory.

"Fired? Why?" he moved to be closer to the young man. "What happened Greg?"

"I'm an ‘unstable personality'." He zipped up his bag. "Look, Nick, you don't have to be concerned about me, I'm not your boyfriend any more." He practically spat the last few words.

"I'm leaving Vegas. I guess I'll go and stay with my parents until I get myself sorted."

Nick surprised him by pulling him into a fierce embrace. "You don't have to go, you can stay here and work things out. We'll go to the Doctor, see about new meds for you."

Greg pulled himself out of the confined space of Nick's grip, looking into moist brown eyes full of regret. "It's too late, Nick. There's nothing for me here now." He lifted his bag and swung it over his shoulder. "I'm going to pack now, I'll be gone by the time you get home. You can keep all the furniture and bulky stuff, I'll just take what's important to me."

Nick's voice cracked with emotion. "I'm sorry things didn't work out between us. I do love you, Greg. Part of me always will, I guess. Will you keep in touch, let me know how you're getting on?"

Greg's defences shattered and tears formed in his eyes. "I guess so. Look after yourself, OK?"

"You too." After a moments hesitation, Nick pulled him in for another hug, tender and gentle this time. "I'll pray for you, Greg."

Greg breathed in the scent he loved so much, a mix of soap and coffee and something uniquely Nick. He was going to miss that smell. "Don't." he said finally. "I don't need that. Just... don't let me go, keep me in your heart."

"Always." Nick's tears began to fall freely now. "Take care of yourself. Don't...... don't do anything stupid. I couldn't take it."

Greg gave him a genuine smile. "I won't, I promise. First thing I do when I get there, I'll go and see a Doctor, review my medication. I'm not going to fall again, I promise." He caressed Nick's face before turning round and leaving. If he'd looked back one last time, he would have seen Nick fall to his knees, sobbing.

Strange how 48 hours can change your life, shatter you and leave you with nothing. A chain of events beyond your control can rob you of your dreams and leave an empty space in your heart. He knows that he can't let himself fall again, realises that nothing lasts forever. It's time to face up to it, this is his new world and he has to build another life. A life without CSI and a life without Nick.