Title: World Falls Down
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Gil Grissom
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: PG-13
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 Gil Grissom, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Gil leaned back in his desk chair, stretching his arms above his head. He had been busy all day cataloging specimens; he needed to take a break and pay some attention to Greg. His boyfriend had been here all day, giving him some quiet company.

He smiled as he heard the water turn off in the shower; Greg would soon be back in the living room, his hair damp from the shower, the scent of the vanilla body wash that he used redolent on his skin. They could order dinner, then curl up together on the couch to watch a movie.

As soon as Greg came back into the living room, he would call one of the restaurants they liked and order dinner. He didn't feel like cooking, and he knew that Greg was feeling a little anxious about going back to work in less than a week's time.

They both needed a few more days to relax. Greg was still shaken over what had been done to him, and Gil was sure that he shouldn't be going back to work so soon. It had only been a couple of weeks, but Greg had insisted that he couldn't just sit at home and do nothing.

Gil had wanted to protest that he wasn't doing nothing; he was being a companion, and that was just as important as working cases with the CSIs. Besides, he was recuperating from an experience that would have rendered most people incapable of doing anything.

But Greg was stronger than most people, he reminded himself. He had know that core of strength was there, ever since he had first worked with Greg, when the younger man was still a lab tech. That strength had come through more than once in those early days.

He had seen that strength manifest itself in a dozen different ways; that was why he had given Greg the chance to become a CSI, rather than relegating him to staying in the lab. He had thought that the young man deserved a chance, and that he would prove himself admirably.

And he had done so, many times over, Gil told himself with an inward smile. Greg had proven beyond any sort of doubt that Gil had made the right decision to let him move into working as a CSI. He had been an invaluable addition to the team over the years.

Greg had also been an invaluable addition to his life -- especially now, Gil thought, getting up from his desk and moving over to the couch. He didn't want to think about what his life might be like as he grew older if he didn't have Greg by his side.

He heard the bathroom door open, heard Greg padding down the hallway towards the living room. He looked up, a smile on his face, starting to reach out a hand that he was sure Greg would take when he entered the room and came over to the couch.

But when Greg appeared at the front of the hallway, he didn't look relaxed and refreshed from his shower, as Gil had expected him to. His features were pinched and pale; he was biting his lip, his bare chest rising and falling with unnaturally quick breaths.

"Greg, what's wrong?" Gil asked, immediately anxious. Nothing could have happened to Greg while he was in the shower; there had been no ringing of his cell phone, and no one could had crawled into the bathroom window. Gil was absolutely sure of that.

"I-I need you to look at something," Greg said, his voice barely audible. Gil got up quickly, going to the younger man and taking Greg's hands in his own, searching his features. He could read fear in those dark eyes, fear and uncertainty. The combination made him uneasy.

Greg didn't say a word; he just turned and led Gil back to the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror on the wall over the counter. He stared at them both in the mirror, his eyes meeting Gil's in the glass before he closed his eyes and spoke in a soft whisper.

"I was in the shower .... bathing .... and I-I .... I found ...." He stopped, his voice trembling, then took a deep breath and continued. "I found a lump in my breast. On the left side. I want you to check and make sure it's really there and that I'm not imagining things."

Gil could feel his heart contract at Greg's words; he hadn't thought about anything like this happening, not to his Greg. Not after all that Greg had already been through. It wasn't fair to pile so much on top of him, to make him suffer more than he already had.

He didn't want to think about the possibility of what Greg had just told him to be true. If it was, then his entire world would fall down; everything that he had felt they were building together could totter dangerously and come crashing to the ground if Greg was ill.

"I'm sure you're mistaken, Greg," he said, keeping his voice calm and even with a supreme effort. "But I'll check if you want me to, just so you'll be sure." He smiled reassuringly at Greg in the mirror as he stepped behind the younger man, sliding his arms around Greg's slim waist.

Greg closed his eyes, leaning back against Gil with an audible sigh. "I know it might seem like a way to get you touch my nipples, but I swear I'm serious," he said, with a flash of the humor that Gil had always been so drawn to. "Even though I do like it when you touch me."

"And I love touching you," Gil murmured into Greg's ear, moving his hands up the front of his boyfriend's half-naked body. He pressed his palm flat over the left side of Greg's chest, moving his hand slowly over the small, hardened nipple.

He did love touching Greg like this, Gil thought, closing his eyes for a moment. He loved feeling that soft, velvety skin under his hands, loved knowing that Greg trusted him enough to open himself up to being touched like this, even after all that he'd been through.

So far, so good. He didn't feel any sort of lump just by moving his hand over Greg's breast; he was sure that the younger man had imagined it, letting fear and paranoia get the better of him. With a soft smile, Gil moved his hand slightly, stroking across Greg's nipple with his fingertips.

Probing slightly lower, he was ready to announce to Greg that he was letting his imagination run away with him -- when he felt it. A small lump that seemed as though it was barely under the skin, hard and unresisting when he rubbed his thumb across the area.

Gil frowned, looking down at his hand on Greg's chest. No. It couldn't be. This wasn't happening. The world had suddenly turned upside down; it was crumbling around the edges, threatening to break down and fall apart. He was imagining things. This wasn't .... it wasn't right.

But he couldn't deny the truth. The lump was there, solid and real. Greg hadn't imagined it. It was all too real, all too horrible. Gil wanted to snatch his hand away, to pretend that he hadn't felt it, to tell himself that it wasn't there and that it couldn't possibly be true.

No. He wasn't going to do that; an action like that would make Greg feel as though his lover didn't want to touch him. Instead, he pressed his hand flat against Greg's breast, his other arm tightening around the younger man's waist to pull Greg closer against the warmth of his body.

"It's real, isn't it?" Greg's voice was flat, expressionless. He turned his head to look at Gil, as if he needed actual eye contact, not just to have their gazes meet in the mirror's reflection. "There's a lump in my breast. I didn't just imagine it."

His voice had gone from flat to trembling in the space of a few words; Gil's heart broke at the sound of those words, at the fear that he could see in the depths of those beautiful dark eyes. He didn't blame Greg for being scared. He was scared himself. Utterly terrified.

"Yes, it's real," Gil whispered, turning Greg around to face him and gathering the younger man into his embrace. "We'll have it looked at, Greg. It doesn't seem like it's that developed -- a doctor can check it out, and we'll find out just what our options are."

"We?" Greg whispered, his gaze not wavering from Gil's face. "You don't have to deal with this, Gil. It's my problem. I'll take care of it." He swallowed hard, looking down, as though he couldn't bear to meet Gil's eyes. "You don't have to worry about it."

"Don't be silly, Greg." Gil's voice was soft and gentle, his words wrapping Greg in warmth and safety as muc has his arms did. "Anything that concerns you is my problem, too. I love you. I'm not going to let you deal with something like this alone."

"Thank you," Greg whispered, his voice choked. He rested his forehead on Gil's shoulder, his thin arms sliding around the older man's waist. Gil could feel Greg's slender body shaking in his arms, giving in to the sobs that he had probably been forcing himself to hold back.

"There's nothing to thank me for," Gil said firmly, resting his cheek against the softness of Greg's hair. "I love you, Greg. I would never let you deal with something like this by yourself. We're in this together. And I promise, we'll be all right. You'll be all right."

He only hoped that he was speaking the truth; he was just as frightened as Greg was of what the future might hold. The world was falling down around him, and he had no idea how to shore it up again. All he could do was hold on to Greg and hope that his promise would become a reality.

***