Title: Someone To Pull the Trigger
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Ryan Wolfe
Series: 1) Catch Me I'm Falling, 2) Sparks, 3) Holding Steady, 4) More Than Ready, 5) Talk About It, 6) Confessions, 7) Fate's Plan, 8) Exposed, 9) A Matter of Feeling, 10) Loving Every Minute of It, 11) Street of Dreams, 12) One of Our Own, 13) Cold Storage
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/CSI: Miami
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Mentions of rape.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Ryan Wolfe, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Ryan sighed as he stretched out under the blanket Greg had insisted on tucking in around him as he lay on the couch; he was surprised that his boyfriend hadn't made him chicken soup and fed it to him a spoonful at a time, too. Greg was being insanely protective of him.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed against the soft pillows, letting his thoughts drift back over the past two days. Ever since he'd come home from the hospital, Greg had insisted on him staying here, refusing to even think about him being alone in a hotel room.

When Ryan had protested that he could get room service, and that he would be coming back to work within a few days, Greg had simply placed a finger against his lips and told him to shush. Ryan had subsided, knowing that it would be impossible to argue with the other man.

What was it about Greg that made it so utterly impossible for Ryan to say no to him? If anyone else had tried to tell him what he was going to do once he'd been discharged from the hospital, he would have snapped at them to leave him alone and mind their own business.

But he couldn't do that with Greg; he knew that his boyfriend had been worried sick about him, and that Greg was only trying to help him get through what had, after all, been a traumatizing experience. One that he didn't particularly care to remember.

A shudder went thought him as the coldness of that freezer swept over him again. He could almost feel that he was there again, unable to move or speak, praying that Greg would find him in time. Panic rose in him, rising from his chest into his throat, making him gasp for air.

Calm down, Ryan, he told himself, trying to take a deep breath. You're here, Greg is in the next room, you're safe. How long would it take before he could make himself relax and look back at what had happened without feeling as though he wanted to scream?

The cold hadn't been the worst of it. He could still feel the cold, thick steel sliding inside him, much too reminiscent of the barrel of a gun. He could feel it twisting, turning, tearing him, pushing further inside him, thrusting, making him scream into his gag ....

He couldn't suppress the cry that was drawn from his throat; within seconds, Greg was there beside him, kneeling by the couch, his hands on Ryan's shoulders. "Ry, what is it?" he asked, fear evident in his voice. "Bad dream? Bad memory? Bad pizza? What?"

Ryan couldn't help smiling at his boyfriend's words; somehow, Greg had the ability to defuse a situation that could have made him a sobbing wreck within a matter of seconds and turn it into something lighter. He took a deep breath, shaking his head and trying to steady his nerves.

"I'm okay," he managed to whisper, pushing the disturbing memories away. He didn't want to think about what had been done to him, not when he was here with Greg. There was enough time for that when Greg was at work, and he was here alone.

But would it be better to get his fears out in the open now, when Greg was here to hold him and comfort him if he needed it? He knew all too well how easy it was to let panic flood him; after his experience with the Russian mob, he'd had firsthand knowledge of dealing with flashbacks.

"You didn't sound like you're okay," Greg said softly, reaching out to stroke Ryan's cheek. "You scared me," he whispered, his voice trembling a little. "Are you sure you want me to go to work tonight? I don't like leaving you here alone all night."

"What's going to happen to me, Greg?" Ryan asked him, his green gaze fixed on his boyfriend's. "Do you think somebody's going to break into your place and rape me or kidnap me or kill me while you're gone? Don't be paranoid, babe. That's not going to happen."

"I know you'll be safe here," Greg told him, his voice still trembling a little. "But I'd feel better if I was with you. I don't like leaving you by yourself for so long. I can always tell them I need to work a half shift," he murmured, sounding hopeful. "I don't think Catherine would mind."

"Yes, she would," Ryan said firmly, shaking his head. "Go in to work, Greg. I"ll be okay. If I need you, then I promise Ill call. But you need to go to work. You took a pay cut going from the lab to being a CSI. You can't afford to lay out of work because of me."

"Okay, if you're sure." Greg stood up slowly, obviously reluctant to take Ryan's advice. "I've got to get going, or I'll be late." He took a few steps back, casting Ryan another worried glance. "Are you sure you want me to go to work?"

"Greg, go!" Ryan told his boyfriend with a soft laugh. "Look, I've got my cell phone." He held up his phone, his gaze holding Greg's. "I promise I'll call you if I need anything. More painkillers, something from the hotel .... or just to hear your sexy voice."

Greg nodded, sighing as he pulled open the door. "You'll call if you need me?" he asked one last time, his voice sounding very small, like a child who was being sent to his room. "I mean it, Ryan. I'll come right home if you need anything. Just call."

"I will, sweetheart," Ryan told him, his gaze following the young man as Greg closed the door, until he was out of sight. He heard the key scrape in the lock; for just a moment, he wanted to jump up and go to the door, tell Greg to stay, hold his boyfriend close to him all night.

But he couldn't keep Greg from going to work. He had to work through this in his own way before he could share his feelings with Greg; the shock and horror of what he'd been through was still too close to the surface for him, and he didn't want Greg to be touched by it.

Too late for that, a wry voice in the back of his head seemed to snicker. Greg was already in this; he'd been one of the people to find Ryan. Greg knew exactly what had been done to him; he'd seen the aftereffects, and they were a part of his life as well as Ryan's.

Ryan closed his eyes, the memory sweeping back to overtake him again, this time with teeth and claws extended. His breath hissed between his teeth at the memory of the freezing cold -- and of the violation that had felt so much like what he'd suffered through in Miami.

It wouldn't have been so horrible if he hadn't been tortured with something so reminiscent of a gun barrel being shoved inside him. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still feel that cold steel; even when he was in Greg's arms, the feeling didn't go away.

He had to face his trauma on his own first, without Greg's help. His boyfriend had his own problems to deal with; he couldn't expect Greg to hold his hand every step of the way. Greg had been through much worse than he had; he should consider himself lucky.

But as the memory came washing back over him again, Ryan knew that "lucky" wasn't one of the words he would use to describe how he felt. Still, he was thankful to be alive, when he could so easily have been killed by both of the ordeals that he'd suffered through.

Would he ever know if that gun had been loaded? Ryan shuddered, closing his eyes and trying to push the memory of the feel of it out of his mind. All it would have taken was someone to pull the trigger, and his life could have been over in a bang and a flash.

There was a part of him that was still holding its breath, waiting for that trigger to be pulled, to find out if he'd been fucked with a loaded gun. That part of him would always wonder if that gun had actually been loaded -- and if his rapist might have squeezed his finger on that trigger.

The therapist he'd seen in Miami had told him in no uncertain terms that he needed some kind of closure for the experience -- but how was he supposed to get that? Being raped with a gun barrel wasn't exactly the kind of thing it was easy to make peace with.

At least he had Greg in his life now. Without his beautiful young boyfriend, everything would be different now; he probably wouldn't have come through this experience as well as he had. If he and Greg weren't together, there was no telling where he would be.

Probably in a mental institution, Ryan thought wryly, sinking back against the pillows again. Without Greg to keep him grounded and take care of him, his mind might very well have snapped. He knew that other people had become completely unhinged from dealing with much less.

He wasn't going to go that route. He was sure of it. He might have if he'd been alone in a new city without anyone to hold on to, but Greg gave him the stability he needed. He would make it through this, and he would come out stronger on the other side of the tunnel.

Ryan sighed, rolling over onto his side and reaching for the phone book. He was going to have to find a new therapist here in Las Vegas -- and he'd have to tell the rest of the CSI team, as well as Greg, that he was doing so. He'd already been told that a therapist was mandatory.

Maybe it was the best thing, he thought, opening the phone book and starting to flip through the pages. If it helped him put his bad experiences in the past and paved the way for a more healthy, open relationship with the man he loved, then he was willing to go full speed ahead.

***

Next story in series - Every Beat of the Heart.