Title: The Trick Is To Keep Breathing
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Ryan Wolfe
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/CSI: Miami
Rating: PG-13
Table: 3, csi50
Prompt: 4, Breathe
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Ryan Wolfe, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Ryan sat up in bed, swallowing a scream that threatened to dislodge itself from his throat and become an audible sound at any moment. He didn't want to wake Greg, not in that way. Not with a scream that he was sure sounded as though it came from the depths of his soul.

The nightmares about Santos were getting more frequent now -- not just nightmares, but memories of what had happened during their first encounter. Those memories had decided to take front and center place in his mind, refusing to let him be in peace.

He didn't want to keep Greg awake with his bad dreams; his boyfriend was worried enough about the effect all of this had on him without having sleepless nights, as well. And he already felt guilty enough about causing that worry and sleeplessness.

Maybe he should just get out of bed, go into the living room, and try to read. If Greg woke up, he would see the light from the other room and know where he was. Ryan thought that idea sounded reasonable -- until he looked down at his boyfriend and felt a tug at his heart.

If he wasn't in bed when Greg woke up, he knew that his lover would assume the worst .Greg had some pretty bad abandonment issues; he would more than likely think that he'd left, that he might not be coming back, and that he hadn't had the nerve to say that he was leaving.

He'd never do that, of course -- and he was sure that in his heart, Greg knew that he wouldn't. But he wasn't going to take the chance of upsetting Greg, or or making him feel, even for a few seconds, that he'd been abandoned by someone he loved.

A sob caught in his throat; he hated that these nightmares still plagued him, that they wouldn't simply go away and leave him alone now that Santos was behind bars and was likely to stay there. This should have been put behind him, laid to rest and forgotten about.

It apparently wasn't that easy to deal with such a deep-rooted trauma. Ryan buried his face in his hands, wishing with all of his heart that he could turn back the clock and that he hadn't been so stupid as to go to a meeting alone with Santos when he was in Miami.

But he had, and that had proved fateful for him. Now, he was probably going to spend the rest of his life dealing with a physical -- and emotonal -- trauma that he could have avoided if he'd just used his head and hadn't felt as though he could handle anything that came at him.

He should have known better. He'd already dealt with the Russian mob when he'd been kidnapped and tortured; he should have known that the Cuban mob would be just as cruel and ruthless, even more so in some ways. He should have been smarter.

His breath hitched in his throat; he couldn't breathe for a few seconds. Just thinking about that horrible day had brought it back, every moment etched into his memory as though it was carved there in stone, never to be removed or forgotten, only growing stronger with time.

Another sob tore its way out of his throat; he struggled to hold it back, but he couldn't. In another few seconds, he would start bawling like a baby, over something that he didn't have the power to go back and change, something that was long since over and done with.

He felt Greg's arms around him, warm and comforting; his boyfriend was holding him, sitting up beside him with a worried expression on his handsome features. "Ryan, what is it, baby? What's wrong?" His voice was a soft whisper, reassuring in the dimness of their bedroom.

"I ...." He couldn't speak, couldn't make his lips and tongue form words. All he could do was lean against Greg, feeling as though the power to speak, to even move, had completely drained out of him, leaving him feeling weak and helpless.

"It's Santos, isn't it?" Greg murmured, pulling Ryan closer against him and stroking his hair. "I know you've been having a lot of nightmares lately, Ry. I don't blame you. If I'd been through what you have, I'd have horrible dreams, too. It's not your fault, babe."

"I didn't want to wake you up," Ryan whispered, raising a hand to wipe away the few tears that had escaped and were trickling down his cheeks. "I tried to be quiet -- and then I end up whining like a baby and waking you up anyway. I'm sorry, Greg."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Greg told him, hugging him close. "I just wish I could get rid of all the nightmares for you. You really need to see a counselor, Ryan. I think it might help you to talk about what happened with a professional."

Ryan shook his head stubbornly, frowning at Greg's words. "No, I'm not going to do that. It's hard enough to talk about what happened with you. I don't want some stranger knowing about it, Greg. And if it's someone who works with law enforcement, they might put it in my file."

"Where anybody we work with could see it." Greg nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And then everybody would know. Yeah, so I guess that's out. I just wish there was more I could do than just be here for you after you've had the bad dreams. I wish I could stop them."

For a moment, Ryan found himself unable to breathe again at the thought of the people he'd been working with for so short a time know about his past. It wasn't something he wanted to be public knowledge; he didn't want anyone here to pity him.

One of the reasons that he'd left the CSI team in Miami was because he hadn't wanted to be seen as a victim -- and he'd been sure that what had happened with Santos would eventually come out. He couldn't bear to be viewed in that light, as though he needed sympathy.

Here, he had a clean slate. But he should have known that his past wouldn't let him go, that it would follow him to Las Vegas and try to spread itself over his new life here. The worst thing was that his past seemed determined to drag Greg into his problems.

Ryan took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. If his past had followed him here, it was something that he would have to deal with. Worrying about it wasn't going to help either himself, or Greg. He would simply have to take things as they happened, one at a time.

He had to calm down, to breathe, to realize that he had the freedom of this new life he'd built for himself -- and that he had the kind of love in his life that would never let him down, a love that would always be here for him. Things were different from how they'd been in Miami.

Taking another deep breath, he looked over at Greg with a smile on his lips. "Since we're both up, what do you say we get dressed and take Wolfie for a walk? We'd have to get up in a couple of hours anyway, and I don't think I can go back to sleep."

"Me neither," Greg told him, nodding in agreement. "And that sounds good. We can go by that new cafeé that's just a couple of blocks away and grab a cup of coffee. It'll be good to get out, now that we don't have anyone following us around."

Ryan got to his feet slowly, holding out a hand to his boyfriend. He might not be able to push all of his worries entirely into the back of his mind, but Greg was helping him to cope with them. And with any luck, someday they would dissipate completely.

The trick was to keep breathing, to ease himself past those fears, and try to leave them behind. It might be a long time before he could do that, but he had the rest of his life to deal with them. And he would have help every step of the way, no matter how long it might take.

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