Title: A Love That Will Never Grow Old
By: flipflopadd1ct
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Warning: character death
Summary: Three ficlets that portray Nick and Greg at the beginning, middle, and end. Character death involved. Inspired by "A Love That Will Never Grow Old" from the BBM soundtrack.

***

1999: Cabana Guy

Meeting Nick Stokes for the first time was one of those events that just stuck in Greg's mind for the rest of his life. Having just transferred to glitzy Las Vegas from golden San Francisco, Greg was 24 - both nervous and ready to prove his worth to the number two crime lab in the country.

He was interviewed by Jim Brass and Gil Grissom, the latter's reputation known well in San Francisco. Both men had been considerably impressed by Greg's resume, and Greg was hired on the spot.

It was a Monday night in July, half-an-hour before Greg was to start his first shift when he met Nick Stokes.

It was a chance meeting, although in retrospect Greg was never sure if he could consider the encounter an actual "meeting." It happened at a colorful place called the Coffee Cabana, rumored to be the best coffee place west of the Mississippi. Waiting in line, perusing the many cappuccino choices, Greg became infatuated with the man standing in front of him.

When Greg took his spot in line, the nameless man turned around, flashed a smile in Greg's general direction. And suddenly Greg was back in high school again, remembering the time when the varsity quarterback had winked at Greg as they passed in the hallway. Greg knew that feeling well, the feeling of falling for someone he barely knew because Greg was a romantic. A dreamer always wanting what he thought he couldn't have.

"Cabana Guy," as Greg would come to know him for the next five minutes, ordered a "California Cino." Despite having no idea what the drink was, Greg ordered the same. Greg had time to kill – and apparently so did Cabana Guy, who sat down at a table across the way – so Greg took his own seat and watched Cabana Guy over the rim of his cup.

Greg guessed Cabana Guy was thirty. He worked out: Greg could tell from the definition in his arms, and he had some flavor of a Southern accent. Cabana Guy was intelligent, Greg decided, because he immersed himself in a hefty book as he sipped his Cino. Once or twice Greg could have sworn Cabana Guy's eyes (which were brown, like Greg's own) had flicked towards Greg's table, maybe eyeing that empty seat. Greg could only hope.

All too soon, Cabana Guy stood and left. Greg secretly watched him leave, using the tactics of espionage that he had perfected over the years, and within five minutes of Cabana Guy's departure Greg was out the door too. But to his disappointment, he didn't see Cabana Guy anywhere.

Greg told himself he'd probably never see Cabana Guy again, but he didn't stop hoping they would cross paths once more. Sure, the coffee was amazing, better than any mocha he had tasted before, but Greg concluded that the best part of Coffee Cabana was the view.

Little did he know, he and Cabana Guy would cross paths again...and many times afterwards.

Fifteen minutes into his first night, Greg had been introduced to most of the entire graveyard shift. The CSI's seemed to be overjoyed to have a new DNA tech – Greg surmised that the previous tech was far from efficient – and the other lab techs seemed to be overjoyed to have a "newbie" to "corrupt."

Within five minutes, the other lab techs realized that maybe Greg would be the one "corrupting" them.

Catherine Willows, blonde but driven and Grissom's second-in-command, had been given the task of showing Greg around. Greg liked her – then again, who wouldn't like a superior who grew up strip-dancing? She had just introduced him to Jacqui, the print tech who greeted Greg with a suffocating hug, when she realized she had forgotten someone.

"There's one CSI you haven't met, and I don't know where he is," Catherine said as they walked into the DNA lab. Greg examined the equipment in awe: Vegas had a much nicer lab in general than the (relative) dump that was San Francisco. "Nick Stokes. He's usually here early, too. Maybe he got caught up at his coffee place."

Greg's ears perked up at the word "coffee," but he convinced himself that it couldn't be the same man. Greg wasn't that lucky.

He was bent over, examining CODIS, when suddenly, Catherine yelled down the hallway. Greg spun around to look at whom she had just called "Nick!" and almost knocked a glass beaker off the desk.

Cabana Guy had a real name now.

Nick Stokes waltzed into the DNA lab, bright smile on his face and Greg imagining the scene in slow-motion like a teen romance movie. Nick held a Coffee Cabana cup in his right hand.

"Hey, Cath. This the new DNA-"

Nick paused, Greg's stomach did a flip, and Nick realized who Greg was. "Didn't I see you earlier? You were at the Coffee Cabana, right?"

Greg nodded quickly, his movements erratic and jerky like they always were when he was nervous. "Yeah. Yeah, I was there. First time there."

"Really? It's great. Man, you've got to try the California Cino," Nick said, raising his cup to make his point. He extended his free hand. "Nick Stokes, CSI Level II."

Greg shook it. Nick's grip was strong and warm, even soft. That first touch sent an electric shiver from Greg's fingertips to the top of his head and down to the soles of his feet.

"Greg Sanders," he said when they parted.

"Warrick and I've got a case on the Strip," Nick said to Catherine, "so I'm heading out. See you around, Sanders!"

Greg waved. From the way Catherine was looking at him, Greg knew he was probably grinning like an idiot. He shook it off, hoping the blush would fade soon, and put on his best "ready" face.

"Now that you've met everyone," Catherine started, "you've got a ton of work to do. Our last tech quit so fast, left so much undone..."

***

2019: Getaway

The older they got, the faster the days slipped by. Greg acknowledged as much as he and Nick lay together in the hammock on the porch of their vacation home.

Nick nodded. It had become harder and harder to ignore that fact. Nick especially realized it every time he looked in the mirror: wrinkles were more pronounced, gray hairs making themselves known. Even Greg's hair had begun to fade.

They bought the second house in 2017, their combined salaries and savings more than enough for a private getaway.

"It's been twenty years," Greg said.

"Doesn't feel like it," Nick replied.

"I think it does."

"How so?"

Greg sat up as he turned to look at Nick. "Look at how much has changed." He extended his hands as if he was trying to reach the ends of their property. "When we were 25 and 29, we never thought we'd have something like this."

Nick chewed his lip. Greg was right.

"The lab, too..." Nick trailed off.

Grissom had retired sooner than anyone else had expected. Catherine became supervisor, the position she had been longing for, and was still in charge. Warrick stayed, as did Nick and Greg, but Sara had transferred to Boston a year and a half after Grissom left. Since then they had acquired several new CSI's, but it didn't feel like "work" anymore.

"And look at us," Greg said.

"I don't think I want to," Nick chuckled.

"You're still hot with gray hair, Nick!"

"Don't mention it!"

Greg squeezed Nick's knee and they dissolved into a fit of laughing and kissing, rocking the hammock until it tipped and knocked them both to the wooden floor where they just laughed harder.

They sat back to back on the deck. Nick sighed.

"What's wrong?" Greg pressed.

"Times like these make me miss the old ones."

"You act like we're fucking sixty, Nick! And you're not even fifty yet. Come on." Greg turned around, so that Nick was sitting his between his legs, and wrapped his arms around Nick's frame. "I don't like seeing you like this."

Nick didn't reply, choosing instead to rest his head against Greg's shoulder as Greg hummed a quiet tune. The tranquility of their home away from home settled down around them like soft snow.

In the distance, the sun was setting.

***

2054: Dusk

Nick always thought he would be first.

Not Greg. Greg was too full of life, too dynamic to be dead at 79.

The minister was droning on, talking about how Greg was such an energetic person and how the world would not be complete without him. Forget the world, Nick thought bitterly, I won't be complete without him. Nick averted his eyes from the fancy wooden coffin and gazed upon the crowd.

A sea of solemn black was gathered around the coffin and the foreboding grave, the green grass of the cemetery lush and bright and, Nick thought, mocking the grim events taking place atop it.

Sara, Warrick, and a wheelchaired Catherine stood together closest to the grave, the three of them the only living members of what Nick referred to as "the good old team." The depressing occasion only enhanced how aged each looked, but Nick could still recall ancient memories of when all of them were younger and fresher.

Sara looked up, smiled a sad smile as a tear rolled down her cheek. Nick acknowledged her with a single finger, unable to return the expression. He started thinking about how Greg died.

Greg had died of an extremely rare genetic disease. Nick couldn't pronounce its name, nor did he want to. It attacked late in life - Greg's beloved Papa Olaf had been a victim, too – but Greg had kept his "family secret" hidden well. It wasn't until the symptoms became too apparent that Greg told Nick what was wrong.

It turned out that Greg had known for a long time that the disease was spreading through his body, slowly shutting down his immune system. It was supposed to have killed him by 2050, but Greg surprised doctors and even himself by living longer than anyone had predicted.

Nick and Greg spent their last years together living life to the fullest, that old cliché. Greg's spirit never faded as he pushed the limits of the disease.

Greg, finally bedridden, fell asleep one Sunday night in his hospital room.

He didn't wake up.

Nick spent the next few days in a state of shock as he replayed every memory he had, from their first date to the events of their CSI careers to dinner the week before. And everywhere he looked, something reminded him of Greg.

Nick shook out of his daze in time to hear the minister's "Amen" as they began to lower the coffin into the ground.

That night, Nick collapsed onto his bed, the emotional workout draining him of the ability to stand. The coffin was closed, the grave was filled, but Nick could still feel Greg within the room.

In his dreams that night were images of heaven: a white and gold paradise where he and Greg were together once more. When he awoke the next morning, the oppressive sadness of the last week was replaced by a feeling of comforting peace. Nick knew his life was creeping towards its end, his sun slowly setting for the final time...

It would be worth the wait.

Emmylou Harris
"A Love That Will Never Grow Old"
From the Brokeback Mountain soundtrack

Go to sleep, may your sweet dreams come true
Just lay back in my arms for one more night
I've this crazy old notion that calls me sometimes
Saying this one's the love of our lives

'Cause I know a love that will never grow old
And I know a love that will never grow old

When you wake up the world may have changed
But trust in me, I'll never falter or fail
Just the smile in your eyes, it can light up the night
And your laughter's like wind in my sails

'Cause I know a love that will never grow old
And I know a love that will never grow old

Lean on me, let our hearts beat in time,
Feel strength from the hands that have held you so long
Who cares where we go on this rutted old road
In a world that may say that we're wrong

'Cause I know a love that will never grow old
And I know a love that will never grow old

***