Previous part of - A Season in Hell.

***

The bright lights of the hospital room burned his eyes. His hand covered his eyes as he waited on the sterile bed. He didn't remember coming to the hospital. To be exact he didn't remember much of anything, so he wasn't surprised to wake up and see a blurred tile floor and a doctor standing over him.

"Dr. Grissom." The doctor reentered the room.

Gil slowly removed his hands and tried to blink the cloudiness out of his eyes. "Yeah?"

The doctor took a breath and shook his head while he looked at the folder in his hand. Gil guessed it was his medical chart. "As a doctor of your statute I should be satisfied with your tox report, but I'm not. I'm concerned for your health."

Gil blinked in confusion at that. Someone was actually concerned about him? "I...don't understand," was all he could think to get out, his voice was rough and his throat hurt.

The doctor tapped the file on the bed and stared at him. "You have many different drugs in your system. Depakote, which I'm sure is for your migraines, Zoloft...you weren't diagnosed with depression, but you're taking it. These two normally wouldn't cause concern if you were taking them as described and in small doses..."

"But..." Gil raised a brow.

"But you're not. Also...Dr. Grissom, I know that you work for the LVPD, crime lab, so you, of all people, should know...Dr. Grissom?"

Gil had zoned out while the doctor was talking. He felt someone shaking his shoulder to get his attention. The doctor was frowning down at him. Why...? "What?"

The doctor removed his hand. "I lost you for a moment there doctor. As I was saying, you should know better than to take drugs."

Drugs...? As in prescribed drugs? "I take Depakote."

"I know that." The doctor sighed in annoyance. "I'm talking about ecstasy."

Gil's brow wrinkled in confusion. He didn't understand what the doctor was saying. "Who's taking ecstasy?"

"You are. If you don't believe me, look at your sheet."

Gil took the sheet from the doctor and looked it over. His vision was blurred but he made most of it out. He was being drugged? How? "Can I have this?"

"I've already made you a copy." The doctor handed it to him. "I'm not going to call about this, doctor-patient confidentiality, but I highly advise..."

"Thanks Doc." Gil folded the sheet and stuck it in his pocket. He knew he would forget all this later. So he kept the sheet for proof. Of what, he didn't know yet.


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He thought his chest was going to explode it was pounding so hard. Gil woke up in the front seat of his car. Blood was dripping down the right side of his head, but he didn't care. His car had apparently had smashed the side of the guard rail. There were no cars coming as he stumbled out of the passenger door and slammed it shut, keys still in the ignition. The wind blew the desert sand over him as he shuffled a few feet and peered over the railing. A seventy five foot drop awaited him. He felt cold, his legs were shaking. He'd never felt that scared before in his life.

His hands fumbled with the cell phone as he tried to pull it out of his pants pocket. He didn't remember going home, getting in his car, driving, or what happened to cause him to cross the median, but he could take a guess. This was getting out of control. He stared over the edge of the cliff, cell phone forgotten in his right hand.

The driver and passenger side windows of his car were broken. The front was banged up and he was staring off the cliff. He couldn't get that thought out of his head. He could have died. Ha, good riddance.

He sat on the trunk of his car and looked at the phone. Who could he call? Shift was over with, but he didn't want any of his team out there, wondering just what the hell happened when he didn't even know himself.

"Well, if it isn't CSI Grissom again."

Gil looked up from the broken glass on the ground to a somewhat familiar voice. "Trooper..." damn, he didn't remember the man's name, or where he'd meet him, but he knew he did.

Doyle smiled as he made his way over. Gil didn't get a better look at the officer. The sun wasn't helping much, and the trooper wore big, dark sunglass and hat.

"Got a call of a car crossing the median...Didn't expect you again though." Doyle looked up toward the road. "Headed to California again?"

Gil quirked an eyebrow. When was he going before? He shook his head and looked back at the ground. "I need some serious sleep," he mumbled under his breath.

Doyle nodded. "You sure do. What exactly happened?"

Gil just shook his head as he continued to stare at the ground.

Doyle approached Gil and looked him over. "You're going to need stitches."

Gil stared at the trooper in confusion. "You're not going to write me a ticket?"

Doyle smiled and shook his head. "No. I'm going to get the ambulance out here along with a few more LVPD. This is an accident."

Gil froze for a moment. "Do you have to? Am I under arrest?" Please, please say he wasn't under arrest.

Doyle chuckled, "I'm not arresting you, but you do need stitches...and I won't call anyone else in I guess."

Gil sighed in relief. That was the last thing he needed.


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"How long has this been going on?" Nick asked Catherine.

Catherine continued to look straight ahead. "Um, an hour before you got back. Ecklie said he just walked to his office and slammed the door. He looked upset."

Nick wasn't surprised. "I bet. I heard something about a car accident?"

"Yeah." Catherine went up to the door and looked in. "What do you think happened?"

Nick went up beside her. "It's Grissom. Who knows what he does." That came out more resentful than he'd meant it too.

She turned to look at Nick. "You're not starting to believe that he..."

Nick smiled down at her. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Nick, is there something going on I should know about?"

Nick looked back through the door at Gil. "I can't say. He won't tell me. You'll have to ask him that. Does he know yet?"

Catherine shook her head. "I don't know how to tell him."

Nick nodded and headed to the locker room. "I'll be back. This is going to be a long night."

Catherine watched him then turned back to looking at Gil who was sitting behind his desk. She guessed that meant she had to be the one to tell him. She opened the door and went in. Gil had his head in his hands until he heard someone come in and he quickly sat up.

Catherine noticed he was wearing his sunglasses; he had been wearing them when he walked in the lab. She sat down in front of him. "So, are you okay?"

Gil stared at the side wall and shook his head. "I don't know what to do."

"What work? You should get a different hobby and..."

"That's not what I meant." He turned and looked at her. "I don't know what to do...about me, Catherine."

She suddenly looked worried. "About you?"

His face tightened and he turned back to looking at the wall. "I mean..." he stopped and tried to think of a way to explain it to her. "I, uh...hell Catherine, I really don't know what I'm trying to say."

She got up and walked in front of him and leaned against the desk. "When did you last sleep?"

"I haven't."

"That's why. Gil, you can't continue on like this. You need sleep." She rubbed him on his back. "Go to the sofa." She went to pulling him up, but he didn't budge.

He suddenly turned to her. "Why do you think I always go into dangerous situations alone or unprepared?"

She let out a sigh. "You're not having a mid-life crisis are you?" She tried to lighten the mood, but it only got her a sigh and a frown from Gil. "Gil, who knows why you don't think before you act. Maybe you thought you could control the situation but then discovered you couldn't. But of course, you don't ever learn from the first time or the second, or third--"

"Catherine," he turned to her, "your rambling isn't helping. Maybe I do just need sleep." He stood up and started to the sofa then stopped. "I...what's going on out in the hallway."

She stood and walked up to him. "They have a suspect in out serial case," she said softly.

"Good. Who is it?"

Nick came through the door a few seconds later with a shirt. "Hey, Cath, I just had a talk with Ecklie...And Griss, I brought you a different shirt; that one's covered in blood."

Gil looked the shirt then at the shirt he was wearing. "Oh, thanks."

Nick tried not to let Gil know he was half watching him change, but it wasn't like Nick hadn't seen Gil without a shirt on for the few weeks he lived with him. Gil had no modesty in his own home, but out in public he hardly wore a short sleeved shirt. Little did Nick know that Gil knew that Nick was watching, with was one of the reasons he hurried and turned his back to them. Gil quickly got done changing and went to put the bloody one on the sofa.

Nick took the shirt from him. "I'll handle it. Get some sleep would ya?"

Gil slowly nodded and smiled a little. "Okay. If you two will kindly leave my office, I'll get some sleep."

Nick nodded and left with the bloody shirt. Catherine stayed behind.

"Gil," this was harder than Catherine thought. "I...I need to talk with you. There's something I need to tell you."

Catherine sat down on the couch, Gil sat next to her. He leaned his head back and looked at her. He was exhausted.

Trooper Doyle didn't grill him much about driving while sleep deprived, but he kept thinking about something. Something that now he couldn't remember...Did he see a doctor today? Something happened with a doctor...Catherine was staring at him, worried to death and he didn't know why. The silence was usually confronting, but now it unnerved him. "You wanted to talk?"

Her smile was weak and it made him more nervous. "Yeah. In about an hour, you'll be suspended from the lab until further notice," she said as quietly as possible.

He stared at her, confused and obviously not understanding, or refusing to understand. "Why would I be suspended?"

She let out a deep breath. "Gil, you're the suspect in the murders of Anthony Ramirez, Thomas Lauer, Kurt Mitchell, Carter Matthews, and John Latham."

He was the suspect? What...How? All the air left his lungs. He couldn't breathe. Catherine faded with the rest of the room as he struggled to breathe.

"Gil?!"

Catherine could only watch helplessly as he struggled to breathe. She tried to help him put his head between his legs, but he wasn't moving. She looked out in to the hallway and saw Nick coming back toward the break room. "Nick! Get in here!"

Nick rushed to where Catherine was kneeling in front of Gil. He immediately unbuttoned the top buttons of Gil's shirt and forced his head down. "That's it breathe deep, in through your nose out through your mouth." He whispered in Gil's ear.

Gil steadily got his breath back but remained leaning over. He brought his hands up and settled them on his knees and laid his head in them.

"Goin' to be okay, Griss," Nick asked. His voice was full of concern.

Gil shivered out deep breaths into his hands and slightly nodded to the other man.

Nick nodded in reassurance to Catherine and motioned for her to follow him outside. He closed the door quietly behind him. "I just had a talk with Ecklie. Griss is officially suspended until further notice," he took a deep breath, "and he wants him interviewed before he leaves."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Nick nodded in agreement. "That's what I told him, but he wants this resolved, Cath. There's not much we can do, except find out who's really doing this."

Catherine frowned. "Is Ecklie giving us time?"

"As much as possible to clear him," Nick pulled Catherine away from the door and into an empty lab room and shut the door. "The press has already gotten word of this. I don't know how, but someone leaked it to them that Grissom is the suspect."

Catherine felt her stomach drop. "Jesus, they'll eat him alive, Nick."

"I know. Ecklie's on the war path with them and Brass is trying to find the leak." The implications of the situation finally hit Nick and he had to hold back tears. "Ecklie's going to put two people on this, Kevin from days and you."

Catherine looked confused. "Me?"

"Says they need someone objective but close enough to read Grissom. No one knows him better than you. Brass's on it too with Vartann. Two ended compromise, he knew we wanted this. Nightshift can run it inside the lab...except me."

"You," Catherine was stunned, "Why?"

Nick shrugged. "He found out I was living with him. Thinks I'll compromise the case, but I reasoned with him to let me go with you guys when and if you have to search the house," he smiled, "Told him I could help sort things out. I know most of Gil's house."

Catherine searched Nick's face, looking for something. She smiled and patted Nick on the shoulder. "We'll clear this up Nick, and find the bastard that's framing Gil."

Nick grinned and a sigh of relief escaped him. "I know. Let's go, Ecklie's waiting."


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Gil stared at the table. Slowly and carefully not to cause his head to spin worse, he settled his head in his hands again.

This couldn't be happening; he was suspended from the lab because he was a suspect. What if they couldn't find anything to clear him? He'd be arrested and that would mean the end of his career. He felt his stomach turn at that thought. Nick and Catherine walked by the door when he glanced up.

He slipped his sunglasses back on and leaned back in the seat. Several news crews were coming down the hall. As Brass opened the door with Vartann, he overheard the words "not official" and "no comment" several times before the door closed and drowned out the rest.

As he went to look at the detectives, he caught a glimpse of a man in a uniform walking down the hall behind the news crew. His breath caught in his throat as he stared wide-eyed at the man before he turned the corner.

"It couldn't have been," he heard himself say through a shaky breath.

"Gil?" Brass sat down in front of him on the other side of the table.

After reasoning that the man just looked like his ex he was able to push the thought out of his head and focus on Jim. "Nothing." His voice sounded unfamiliar to him. It was shaky and rough.

Brass noticed how pale Gil looked. His friend was really showing his age from the lack of sleep and hygiene. Everyone noticed the lost of weight and untamed hair and beard. He smiled and handed over a cup of water he had in his hands. "Migraine," he asked and pointed to the sunglasses.

Gil nodded as he took a sip of the water. Vartann leaned against the wall; he was going to let Brass handle the interrogation. Gil smiled at his in appreciation and focused back on Brass.

"Have you been taking anything for it?"

Gil nodded his head which caused rippling effect of pain through his head.

Brass smirked a little and glanced over at the two-way mirror then back at Gil. "Nick said you've been taking a lot of your medication lately."

Gil stared at Brass then took a quick glance over at the mirror, no doubt that Nick and Catherine were back there. "He's mistaken."

Brass's smirked faded, "Is he also mistaken about this?" He tossed a pack of cigarettes on the table in front of Gil.

Gil shifted in his seat as he looked at the pack. "No."

"Since when did you smoke?" Brass's voice was a little rougher.

"'75, since when do you shoot cops?" Gil's voice was cold and taunting. He looked up at Brass.

Brass flinched back, clearly hurt. He couldn't believe that his best friend had just said that. Brass immediately switched to detective mode. This was going to get a hell of a lot worse before it got better. This was the same Gil he saw that day at the townhouse.

"Doesn't matter what I think or do anyways," Gil mumbled to himself. "No one cares." He picked up the pack and turned it over in his hands.

"Hey," Brass snapped at him "I care, Gil." He leaned forward in the chair after he pulled himself together.

Neither one of them talked for several minutes. Brass was still hurt that his best friend would even be this cold. He would wait for Gil to talk. He knew just as well as Vartann that Gil wouldn't let them interrogate him. If they started pushing, he wouldn't say a word.

"I don't know what's going on," Gil finally said after a moment of silence.

This was Brass's clue that Gil was ready to say something. "Were you ever at Johnny's Lounge?"

"Yes," Gil offered.

Brass leaned closer. "Gil, you know how this works, and I know you. I won't push, but you have to explain." He sat back and watched as Gil crossed his arms.

Gil leaned back in the chair and stared at the man in front of him. A rage had shaking underneath since Brass asked him about smoking, but he wasn't about to explode at his best friend. He was mad at Conrad, the fuck-head who was framing him, but most of all he was mad at himself. If he was more alert, more focused, maybe he could have seen this coming, or found the real guy who was doing this. "There is nothing to explain. I've been there. I had to pick up Nick. Which I'm sure he has already told you."

"Have you been there before or after that?" He wished he could see Gil's eyes, but he was sure they had hardened.

"I knew the owner, Johnny, from about...ten years ago. That was the last time I was there until I had to go and pick up Nick. I hadn't been back since." For all he knew, he wanted to say, but he wasn't going to incriminate himself when he didn't remember if he ever did after that.

"Why did you stop going?"

Gil leaned forward and rested his arms, still crossed, on the table. "I got older."

For the first time in over twenty years, Jim watched as Gil slowly started to lose his control. He didn't even think Gil even noticed that he was shaking and if it was possible, he got even paler. The chair screeched back as Gil stood.

"Gil...?" Brass stood with his friend.

A second Brass was heading for the door with Gil the next he was being pushed up against the wall. It took all his effort to wave off Vartann and not push off Gil. Gil was inches from his face, nose flaring, eyes dilated, hands clenched in fists in Brass's shirt.

"I have to go." Gil finally said.

The words were choppy and Brass could hardly understand him. The door opened and Nick walked in with Catherine.

Nick was at Gil's side immediately, "Gil? Come on, let Brass go."

"No," Gil snapped out then turned to Brass, "I do know how this works, and I know I can leave at any time," Gil barely got the words out because his jaw was clenched tight, "If you need anything else, you know where to find me."

Brass nodded and waited for Gil to release him. In a flash Gil dropped him and was out the door, Nick close behind. Brass stood in shock for a second and then regained his composure as he turned to Catherine. "What was that about?"

Catherine shook her head. "You got me...Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Brass was fine; he was more concerned about Gil than himself. "I don't think we're going to get much out of him. I truly think he doesn't know what's going on just like the rest of us," he said as he straightened out his shirt and suit jacket.

Catherine nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but the damage is already done. Even if he isn't arrested, his career as a CSI is ruined. The press is eating him alive. Ecklie's going to bat for him, but his credibility..."

Brass nodded, "I know. Jesus, Catherine, I know."


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"Have you seen Grissom?" Nick poked his head around the door and eyed Hodges.

"No, but I could sniff him out for you." Hodges shrugged out the comment.

Nick shook his head and took off without giving Hodges an answer. Catherine came out of the locker room and nearly ran into Nick. "In there?" Nick asked.

"His locker was cleaned out. Wendy said that she had to phone a cab for him."

"Shit," Nick sighed. "I went to the break room to give him some privacy and he bails."

"He probably went home. Or he went to ride a rollercoaster. Hell." Catherine was looking over Nicks' shoulder.

Nick turned and saw Ecklie approaching. He closed his eyes and looked back at Catherine. "Follow my lead." He turned back around just as Ecklie stopped in front of him.

"So, where is he? I need to prep him and Brass still has some questions."

Nick nodded and looked over at Catherine before addressing Ecklie. "Since we all want to find out what Griss knows, then it'd be best that Grissom was well rested and out of the state of shock before he gives us anymore information. That's why we let him go home to freshen up."

Ecklie's mouth dropped a little before he shook his head. "You mean Gil left without you guys knowing. Get him back here as soon as possible." He turned and left for his office.

Nick turned back to Catherine and shrugged, "I tried. Who's driving?"

Catherine held up her keys. "I am."


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What was it...twenty-two years? Had it really been that long? Gil walked to the kitchen and pulled out a cigarette. He was in deep thought as he lit it up and stared at the empty coffee pot. California came to mind, his old house, dog...he actually had a dog, his job as a coroner, but the most important aspect was his former lover who he had sworn he saw in the lab.

He set the coffeemaker up and stared at it while he puffed away on the cancer stick in his hand. He needed a shower, he needed a shaved...he needed to remember what the hell that doctor said to him, but most of all, he needed to figure out why he was a suspect in their murder investigation. The pill bottle slipped from his limp hand and hit the floor. Pills of varies shapes covered the tile floor.

"Shit."

He scooped as many as he could up in his hand, some made it back into to bottle, most didn't. Swallowing took more effort than usual because he didn't count how many he wiped of the counter into his hand before he downed them. He quickly finished his cigarette and put it out in the sink.

His career was over. Everything he worked so hard for in the past twenty some years were gone. He didn't even know what they had to even consider him a suspect, but it had to be something big for them to suspend him. He had nothing.

The light above the bathroom sink flicked on and he stared at himself in the mirror. God, he looked horrible. His eyes flicker over his reflection. Out of everything, his eyes were the ones that changed the most. He didn't see his eyes, not the sparkling blue eyes he used to see. They were dull, clouded, and nothing flashed behind them.

"I fucking hate you."

He turned the water on for the shower. The fast spray quickly got warm and he got in it and shut the curtains with one thing on his mind, his ex.



He steadied his shaking hands and pulled the key out of the ignition and got out of his car, letting the door slam behind him. Usually the dry summer heat and the breeze coming in off the ocean comforted him, but taking that walk from his car to his front door, his hands were still shaking.

Pink jumped up on him and bounced off of him several times before he bent down and petted the beagle that was staring up at him with chocolate brown eyes. "Hey, Snoopy." He still laughed at the choice of the dog's name, but hey, it was Charlie Brown's dog's name.

He spotted Robert with his back to him, sipping on a glass of wine and stirring something, looked like stir-fry, in a pan on the stove. He loved the way Robert's brown hair was the same color of his eyes, and how they both seemed to shine even in the darkest of rooms.

Robert turned and brown eyes locked on his blue at that moment and Robert smiled at him, that bright smile that could light up the whole city of Angels. He felt a shiver go down his spine as he walked over to Robert; there was something in his lovers' eyes that he loathed.

Robert went back to cooking. "You're back early. Is everything all right?"

"I got a call at the office today," he stated.

"Is something wrong?" Robert's voice filled the air between the two of them.

He cleared his throat. "We, uh, we need to talk."

Robert faced him with concern. "What's going on, sweetie?"

He let out a heavy breath and looked around the kitchen as he tried to steady his increased heart beat and rapid breathing. His eyes eventually went back to Robert's. He knew he was looking at him with that concerned stare now. Robert stared back with cold eyes.

They both jumped. The phone rang from the other room. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat and went to answer it. "I'll get it." He said softly and went into the other room.

He snatched up the phone and mumbled under his breath, "This better be fucking important...What do you want," he asked more clearly into the receiver. "I'm very interested, but I'll have to get back with you...I have someone I need to discuss it with first." He sighed deeply. "Okay, thanks again. Bye."

He walked back into the kitchen and stopped at the entryway and watched as Robert sat down at the kitchen table and absently started to glide his glass back and forth through his hands. When Robert glanced up he caught sight of his cold hearted stare.

He kept looking at Robert, his lover for the past three years, as he stepped into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine that was already open on the counter. He sat down across from Robert. "I, uh, I was offered a job."

Robert nodded slowly. "That's what I figured. Are you going to take it?" He formed a small, optimistic smile that contrasted the stare.

He had to smile at that. He swallowed half the glass and nodded. "It'll be very good for me if I took it." He slightly shrugged. "But, it's in Nevada...Las Vegas."

Robert slightly froze and a confused frown replaced his smile. "Vegas? That's...that'll mean we'll have to move. I, I can't move. I have a career here, not to mention all my family and friends."

He flinched at the pleading yet angry sound of Robert's voice. His hand clenched around the glass and he had to release it before the glass broke. "I know, Robert. But this is an opportunity that I can't pass up." His voice was strong and steady, never presenting the shaky rage underneath.




He blinked several times trying to make the shower stall come into focus. Why was he even in the shower? And fully clothed? The room started to spin violently and he couldn't see. His balance was off and the slippery tub didn't help. As he went to step out he slipped. His head banged against the floor with a solid crack. The room blacked out for a moment, then came into a blurry focus.

He was too tired to try to even stand up. His bones and muscles felt like dead weight and he didn't have the energy to lift them. A pounding echoed through his head, and he wasn't sure if it was just from the headache.


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Nick continued to pound on the door while Catherine talked to Jim on her cell phone. Gil was there, his lights were on. Catherine snapped her phone shut as Jim rounded the corner.

"Nick, stop pounding on the door. Jim's here. He knows how to pick a lock." Catherine said staring at him over her shoulder.

Jim stopped beside them and went to the door. "I'm so glad I learned how to do this. I really don't want to have to knock the door down and then the alarm going off." He looked back at Catherine and Nick, "I know the code, and probably so does Nick. Now, let's all hope he wasn't in the shower."

They all smiled at that and went into the townhouse. Sometimes Gil didn't know what a towel was. Jim unlocked the door and they walked into the living room. Nick frowned at how normal the place looked without his things around. It hit him then that this was Gil's house and always would be.

Catherine went upstairs and straight for the bedroom while Jim went to the kitchen to put on coffee. If Gil was asleep he'd need it.

Jim stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. There were pills scattered over and counter and some lay on the tile floor. A pack of cigarettes lay next to them, a finished one in the sink. He had just enough time to look at Nick walking up the stairs towards the bedroom when he heard Catherine yell Gil's name.

***

The doctor smiled at the small gathering of people in the waiting area. "I'm Dr. Rayburn. I'm treating Dr. Grissom."

Catherine nodded. "How's Gil?"

Jim squeezed Catherine's shoulder slightly as the doctor let out a breath and spoke to them.

"He's doing fine now. Good thing you got him here when you did."

"Was it an overdose?" Nick barely got the words out of his dry mouth.

Dr. Rayburn nodded and frowned as he looked down at the chart in his hands. "I'm afraid so, and a pretty bad fall. This time though he had a lethal amount of Zoloft, Depakote, and Ecstasy in his system. I tried to tell him earlier that--"

"Wait, wait..." Jim was startled just as everyone else. "Ecstasy? As in E, was in his system?"

"That's why he's been having problems," Catherine spoke up, staring at Dr. Rayburn.

"Yes. It's been the cause of his memory lost, insomnia--"

"And everything else," Nick cut the doctor off. "Can we see him?"

"He's being moved to a room to recover. Once he's settled in you can see him."

"Thanks Doc," Nick said.

Once the doctor was gone Catherine and Jim both turned to Nick as he sighed and moved to sit back down in the chair. Catherine sat next to him while Jim continued to stand.

"This doesn't make any sense. Yeah, Gil is a scientist and everything, but he would never do drugs," Jim said through slightly clenched teeth.

Nick closed his eyes then opened them once he began to talk. He shook his head. "He can't be doing any drugs anyways, drug testing is done every year, plus...Gil's not like that."

Jim stared down at Nick then looked at Catherine. "You know, if someone has been drugging him, the evidence might not be wrong."

Catherine eyed Jim. He could be right. She closed her eyes and shook her head at that thought. "Let's not focus on that now. We need to know what's going on with him now. Zoloft...are we talking about depression, a possible addiction, and overdosing on pain medication?"

"Sounds like it," Nick whispered as he continued to stare at the floor. Tears started to well up. He felt Catherine wrap her arms around him and pull him into a hug.

Jim sat down on the other side of Nick and patted him on the back. He and Catherine both knew about Nick's love for the older man. He had no words so he continued to rub Nick's shoulders until they could see Gil.


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It wasn't until one in the morning when they were allowed to see Gil, and it was only due to the fact that he needed a ride home. Jim called the office explaining, in not too specifics, that Gil wouldn't be in. He and Catherine had numerous talks with Ecklie all evening, promising that they'd get the questions answered before they came in that night.

Nick, Catherine, and Jim stopped a few feet from the door when they heard yelling. It was Gil.

"I don't need a fucking babysitter! Call a cab for all I care but I'm not staying here!"

"Dr. Grissom..."

"No! I don't need anyone! Got it!"

They didn't hear the rest of the conversation, the argument was over. A few minutes later Dr. Rayburn exited the room and stopped in front of them.

"Will one of you take him home? Here..." he handed Nick a sheet of paper since he was the first to nod, "instructions, conditions really, for him. If you need any questions..."

"I got it, thanks," Nick spoke as he looked at the paper.

Nick was still furious that Gil had refused to see them. They had saved his life and he refused to let them see that he was even okay. He was pacing the hallway ten minutes later when Gil walked into the hallway and stopped.

Gil nodded to Catherine and Jim then hesitantly looked at Nick. Nick stopped pacing and stared at him, his jaw clenched tight. Gil had expected Catherine and Jim to give him time to come around, but Nick, on the other hand, wore his heart, and anger, on his sleeve.
"You selfish bastard," the words were barely audible coming from Nick.

Catherine stared wide-eyed at the younger man while Jim stood slowly from the chair he was in.

"Nick." Jim warned.

Gil shifted his gaze from Jim back to Nick and held his ground. This was the last thing he needed right now, but he knew he deserved it. He was aching all over and his head was pounding. All he could think about was taking something to calm his nerves.

Nick stepped closer. "How could you? I, we wanted to help you. Do you realize what you...What could have happened?!"

"Nick." Jim was closer now.

Nick shook his head. "You're nothing but a coward. Things get tight and you down fucking pills to end it all! I thought you'd be the last person to try to do a selfish act like that, Gil."

"It's not selfish to the one who's doing it," Gil finally spoke; his voice was hoarse and dry.

"The one who's doing it isn't supposed to be you!"

"I'm not infallible Nick," Gil snapped. His patience was running thin as it was, and he didn't care anymore. "Beyond popular belief I'm not some fucking robot. I am human and I do feel! And it's not a selfish thing to do when you wake up one day and find out that your whole life...that the thing that you do that actually keeps you sane is gone because some asshole wants to kill people and blame you for it! Don't you understand? I have nothing left!"

Silence filled the hallway as Jim, Catherine, and Nick stared in disbelief at him. Gil glanced at the people around him and lowered his head. He'd never snapped at them before. He was just too tired and fed up. God he needed his medicine, it ached, he ached. It wasn't until Nick lifted his head and wiped a tear away with his thumb that he realized he'd been crying.

Gil pulled his head away and backed up towards the room. "I'll...get a cab." He turned and went into the room, shutting the door.

Nick turned and faced Catherine and Jim before he walked up to the door and knocked. "Gil, we're not leaving here unless it's with you."

Gil leaned back against the door and sighed. This was why he didn't let himself get emotional. He always would explode like that. The last time he could remember getting that upset was when he'd knocked a coffeepot out of Ecklie's hands, but it led to them finding the truth in a case so he justified it. How could he justify this?

"Gil?"

Gil could hear Nick through the door. He let out a sigh, "Go away Nicky."

"I'm not leaving. Nah-hah, I'm staying right here. Do you hear me? I'm taking you home and you're going to show me where you're stashing your drugs and we're--"

Drugs? What drugs?

Nick stopped talking as the door swung open.

"What makes you think I take drugs?" Gil stared at Nick in confusion.

Nick frowned. "That's why you're here. You overdosed on Zoloft--"

Gil shook his head. "I'm not..." he looked at Catherine and Jim who were behind Nick. His forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I've never taken Zoloft in my life."

"You certain" Nick asked.

"Yeah."


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Gil stood outside his townhouse with a cup of coffee in his hands. Jim had ordered Catherine and Kevin into the house as Sophia waited outside the door with Nick. Jim made his way over to his car and leaned back against it beside Gil.

"Got anything in there we should be warned about?" Jim smirked and took a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, Puff...but Nick knows about him."

Jim laughed. "Komodo dragon, right?"

"Yep."

"You ever have any normal pets," Jim teased as he stared up at the townhouse.

Gil glanced over at Jim before looking back at his house. Once they find that nothing was in there then they could finally move on to find out who was killing those men. And he could get on with his life. Sara called earlier telling him that she, Warrick, and Greg were already searching through old cases of his, trying to find if anyone had a reason to frame him. Yeah, that'd take the rest of their lives to sort through.

Gil reached downed and started to scratch his arm. His skin itched and burned for some reason.

Jim reached over and stopped Gil's hand. "You're gonna scratch through your arm."

Gil looked over at him and down and his arm. He had scratched so hard he was starting to break skin. "Thanks."

Jim watched as Gil went back to watching the movements in his house. He was starting to notice signs of withdrawal from Gil. Jim took a deep breath. Things were going to get a hell of a lot worse before they got better.




Catherine walked immediately passed Kevin the CSI from days and headed up the stairs. "You take down here. I'll take his bedroom."

"Already on it. Grissom wouldn't appreciate me going through his personal things," Kevin said as he stared sorting through the journals and papers on the dining room table.

"The whole place is his personal things, so don't mess anything up. He hates change, but most of all, he hates people changing things for him."

Catherine headed for the bedroom. She had been there many times before and even slept in his bed, all for comfort of course, especially while she was still married to Eddie. Women fascinated him, but Gil was partial to men. The day she found out he was bi would be a day she would never forget.

She stopped in the doorway and looked around the room. Everything was usually orderly and in its rightful place, but unlike most times, it wasn't. Gil's appearance wasn't the only thing he let go; apparently cleaning house went out with shaving. How did he still have clothes to wear?

The laundry basket was overfilled with clothes and the closet was running on empty. The bedside table revealed nothing but books, journals, and the remote to the television, which he only had in his bedroom.

"When you can't sleep, watch TV." She flipped on the television. "Of course, the Discovery Channel." She went to change the channels but instead it went to a menu screen. Gil had just the channels he watched programmed into the tivo. "AMC, TCM, Discovery Channel, TLC, History Channel, National Geographic...ESPN?"

She laughed and turned off the television and put the remote back in its place. The bathroom off the bedroom came up empty, and so did his sex life apparently. She put the year old unopened box of condoms back under the sink and went to fully investigate the closet.

Boxes of various sizes made up the top shelves. Some boxes contained bug charts, notebooks of experiments, books, and old tax information and bills. One was marked "1965" that was pushed all the way to the back. She grabbed the box and pulled it down. Sitting on the floor in the closet, she opened the box.

At first she just thought that it contained nothing but pictures. Most were of a very young Gil, he had to be nine, and who she guessed was his mother and father. Under the pictures was a big white envelop that turned out to be records. Some were medical, but others mental. Flipping to the back she saw school records as well, but they were different then normal records. She flipped back to the first page and read it.




Half and hour later Catherine met Kevin downstairs. Kevin was standing just outside a door under the stairs. She went up to him and looked into the room and stopped.

"That must be Puff," Catherine stated.

"I can't get past him, but I don't think it matters anyway. The garage door is pad locked and dead bolted twice." Kevin looked over at Catherine. "What do you think he has in there?"

"With Gil, it could be anything. Maybe it's some science experiment gone wrong."

The two gathered their kits and headed out of the townhouse. Nick was waiting just outside the door.

Catherine stopped next to him. "What's in the garage?"

Nick shrugged. "Don't know. I've never been in it. The garage door doesn't open from the street. Gil had it locked from the inside, security system set up and everything. The only way to get to the garage is through Puff...which is never happening unless you're Grissom."

Catherine looked over at Gil who was still leaning up against Jim's car. His eyes were covered by his sunglasses even though the sun had been down for hours. She turned back to Nick. "We didn't find any Zoloft or Ecstasy. Kevin is taking the bottle of Depakote back to the lab."

Nick started to walk with Catherine down the steps. "Think someone added the drugs to the bottle?"

Catherine smiled. "You're quick. One day you'll make an excellent supervisor Nick. Look, this place is off limits so Gil has to find someplace to stay. Once you get him settled meet me at the lab. I'm holding a meeting for night shift, and Ecklie, after I get done here."

Nick nodded as they approached Gil. "Got it."

Catherine stopped in front of Gil. He wasn't looking good, withdrawal would do that. "You okay?"

Gil nodded. "What's the verdict?"

"Dead bolts. I need your key." Catherine sat down her kit and crossed her arms. "Well?"

Gil smirked. "What do you need in my garage for?"

"Gil, just give me your keys." Catherine held out her hand.

"Warrant."

Catherine dropped her hand and looked over at Jim then back to Gil. "You can't be serious."

"Cath, through your extensive search, did you see any of my bugs?"

Catherine let out a sigh. "Your bugs are in the garage."

"It's a very controlled environment Cath. I'm sorry, but you'll need a warrant to get me to kill by bugs." Gil smiled and took a drink of his coffee.

"You're a pain in the ass, Gil. Nick, get him out of here."

Nick smiled. "Sure thing. Let's go Griss."


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"I'm glad to return the hospitality, Gil," Nick said as he let Gil out in front of his new apartment building.

Gil shut the door and turned back to Nick. "Thanks Nicky, but I really don't need to stay here. I can get a hotel. I want to be alone right now."

"You will be alone, and your doctor said--"

"I don't care what he said. I need sometime to think, ride a rollercoaster or something. I can go to a hotel and Jim can pick me up after he gets off shift and I can stay with him."

Nick frowned. "I can't let you do that, Gil. I'm sorry but if you bail again...I don't want to be held responsible."

"I'm not. Jesus Nick, if I bailed now I can kiss everything I have goodbye."

Nick put the truck in gear. "It's a no, Gil. I'll be back by ten."

Gil straightened up from the car. His jaw tight and face shading a slight red. "Fine, tell everyone that...I expect nothing but the truth."

With that Gil disappeared into Nick's apartment building. Nick watched him for a while until he was satisfied that Gil fine there alone, then he drove off.


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The conference room was filled with the night shift along with Brass and Ecklie, except for Greg who was in the DNA lab. Nick took a seat at the table and waited for Catherine to get in. Kevin from days walked in and leaned against the wall behind Nick.

"Okay," Catherine started as she walked into the room. "First off, Tox came back and some of the pills in Grissom's migraine bottle weren't just Depakote, but also Zoloft and Ecstasy."

"Vartann is talking to the pharmacist now and as soon as he knows, we'll know," Brass spoke up from the side of the room.

Catherine nodded then continued. "Secondly, we need to confirm Gil's alibi for the nights the murders took place. Gil already doesn't remember, so we have to find people who remember for him. Thirdly, what did you guys find?"

Warrick and Sara both looked at each other. Warrick spoke up, "There was only one person that we found who could possibly be doing this, Derrik Collins. He was arrested and convicted of first degree murder and has a history of drug problems. He was released on parole just eight months ago. He still lives in Nevada."

Nick frowned. "Why was he released?"

"Appealed and won. Defense Attorney made an error, got his sentence cut in half, then good behavior," Sara stated then turned back to Catherine.

"Brass, Kevin and I will follow that lead. Sara, continue with the records. Warrick go over the files and evidence that we got at his house."

"Hey," Greg shouted as he ran down the hall and waving sheets of paper around. He came to a sliding halt in front of the break room door. "DNA came back. Gil's DNA doesn't match the unknown from the condoms found at the crime scene," he smiled as he said it and gave the sheets to Catherine who looked them over then handed them off to Kevin.

"That's great. One piece of evidence down, but we still need more proof. Everyone get on it. Call when you find something or if you need any help."

"Nick," Sara asked as she stood up. "How's Grissom doing?"

"Good, he just needs some sleep. He'll be fine," Nick said with a smile and went over to Catherine. "What can I do?"

Catherine looked over at Jim then back to Nick. "You're off this, but you can keep an eye on Grissom."

Nick nodded. "Okay, so why did I have to be here?"

"I want you to look over something for me, maybe you might know something. You can take it with you." Catherine handed him the white envelope she came in with. "Call me if you find anything."

Nick stared at the envelope then looked back up at Catherine. "Is this relevant to the case?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not that I know of, but it could be."


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Gil looked around the lighted apartment. It looked like what he expected Nick's place to look like with sports equipment in the corner by the door, a big couch and wide-screen T.V., and a pizza box on the kitchen counter. The only things that felt odd were the lights all around the base of the floor and the ceiling.

He ran the water to make coffee. After the pot was full and dumped into the maker, he stuck his head under the water. Hopefully the cold water would ease some of the ache in his head. He wasn't allowed to have any pills, even if it was Tylenol or Excedrin for a migraine. The phone ringing startled him. He jerked his head and hit the water faucet. "Damn it!"

The phone kept ringing as he turned the water off and finished setting up the coffee maker. The answering machine beeped.

"Gil, its Nick, pick up..."

Gil made his way to the phone by the door. "Grissom."

"I'm on my way there and realized I don't have anything to eat. Do you want anything?"

Gil let out a groan. Yeah, he wanted Depakote, something, anything to stop the pain in his head and body. "No...nothing specific. Get what you want...I'll eat anything."

"Is Chinese okay?"

"Yeah." Gil wasn't hungry, but if it'd get Nick off the phone faster.

"Be there in about thirty minutes."

Gil hung up the phone and twisted his hands together. This wasn't going to work. If he was going to stay with the object of his affection for a few days, he was going to need something to keep his mind and emotions safely locked away in the abyss. He needed his pills, but couldn't have them, but he could still smoke. He needed a cigarette.

There was a gas station two blocks down the street. Gil found his wallet in the bag he packed from his house and left the apartment without locking it, he couldn't find the key Nick had given him, and went in search of the gas station.

The morning sunlight hurt his eyes even through his sunglasses as he stepped out of the apartment building doors. He was glad he couldn't drive because he couldn't make anything out. Everything from the street, cars, and building were nothing but a huge, tinted blur.

His world tilted when went to step off the first step and fell hard into the side of the building. The right side of his body started aching as he stumbled toward the street. Someone stepped in front of him, blocking his path. His eyes were blurred and he couldn't make out who it was.

"Gil."

Gil froze at that voice. He knew that voice. Who, whose voice was that? Before he could respond he was being lead away from the direction of the apartment.

"There's no way you can do anything like this Gil, but don't worry. I'll take you home and get you something for the pain I know you're feeling. You can smoke a cigarette...What'd you say?" He opened a car door and held it open for Gil.

Gil tried to see who was standing in front of him, but his eyes were killing him and he could see. "Who are you?"

A laugh echoed through the parking lot. "You'll see, later. Huh, too bad you won't remember this later."

"Remember what," Gil asked as he was buckled into his own car. How did he get his car? Didn't Trooper Doyle have his car towed when he wrecked it?

"You'll see."


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They arrived at Gil's townhouse and he was ushered in. The man took out a key and opened the front door and quickly typed in the alarm code and lead Gil to the kitchen. "Damn cops, they messed up your house." He filled a glass with water and handed it to Gil and pulled the pill bottle out of his pocket. "Here," he handed four to Gil with the glass of water. "You'll need these."

Gil took the pills against his better judgment. His head was pounding, body was aching, and the pills looked almost like heaven to him. He didn't take his eyes off of the blurry man in front of him as he swallowed the pills.

"You still can't see me, can you? That's what sleep deprivation does to a body, to the eyes of someone with insomnia. You can't see shit. Body aches, head pounds, and you feel like dead weight must of the time. Fucking sucks." He steps closer to Gil. "Fuck Gil, you have no idea who I am, do you?"

Gil shook his head. "I...can't see you." Was that him talking? He was shaking.

The man stopped inches away from Gil. "My voice isn't familiar?"

"It is, but...I can't place it." Gil tried to back up but was stopped by the counter. The figure was slowly coming into focus. The eyes were brown, hair the same...Gil stopped breathing as the man came into focus.

Maybe if his mind was working right, if he had gotten some sleep, if he wasn't clinically diagnosed as having an addiction problem, and if he wasn't captivated by those brown eyes in front of him maybe he would have questioned why his ex from LA, Robert, was standing in his kitchen. "Robert? How, w-what are you doing here," Gil asked bluntly.

Robert's glare didn't change. "I was in town, thought we could talk."

Gil couldn't take his eyes off of Roberts'. He wanted to talk? About what?

Robert looked around the room as Gil studied him. "So, do your friends know about your violent temper?"

"My temper?" Gil laughed and leaned back against the counter as the drugs started to take effect. The room started to change colors in front of him...that was different. "You're the one...with...the temper," he tried to say between laughs. This was really different. Confusion quickly stopped his laughter. "What'd you give me?"

Robert inched closer to him, eyeing him. "Let's see, two were Ecstasy, and the other two were mushrooms...the psychedelic kind, you'll be flying high for hours." He stopped in front of Gil and rested an arm on his shoulder. "Do you still love me?"

Gil nearly dropped the glass of water that was still in his hand. "Did I hear that right?"

"You got your hearing fixed didn't you? You know what I asked." Robert moved closer and Gil moved back as he felt Robert's erection against his thigh. "Well, do you?"

Gil continued to stare at Robert. "How'd you know about my hearing?"

Robert smiled. "I know a lot about you, Gil."

Gil suddenly wished he kept his gun in his house. "Robert. Whatever is...happening...we can work this out." His brain was starting to lose its battle with the drugs. He couldn't think about anything except the erection digging into his thigh.

"How long has it been, Gil? Huh, how long since you've had sex with a man?" Robert bent down and starting licking and biting Gil's neck.

"Fuck," Gil breathed out, "long...time."

Robert lifted his head and calmed Gil's mouth with his. The part of Gil that was still functioning wanted to pull back, find a gun and shoot, but the drugged part of him was reacting to the kiss. Robert pulled away.

Gil was too far gone in the drugs to care. That kiss made his lips ignite on fire and so did his cock. He grabbed both sides of Robert's head and captured his lips in another kiss and moved him back against the opposite counter.

Gil circled his arms around Robert and pulled him close as he deepened the kiss. Robert pushed Gil back and rocked his member furiously against Gil's when they hit the other counter. Gil pulled back and coughed out a breath as he tried to breathe. He hadn't had physical connect like that in years. He didn't want it to end. He reclaimed Robert's mouth. His insides were burning through his skin; Robert was burning his skin. He was so hot he felt his clothes melting, dripping to the floor.

Robert broke away from the kiss and leaned his head against Gil's forehead. "Do you still love me?"

Gil was trying to breathe and talk after Robert kissed him. "It doesn't matter...I love you or not. You feel, taste so good, hot...I burn." What the hell was he saying?

"Stop trying to control this. You can't control any of this anymore, Gil...not after what I did. What I've done."

Maybe you thought you could control the situation, then discovered that you couldn't, Catherine's words entered his mind for some reason. "Shut up," he whispered to the voice in his head that was getting louder. He pressed his hands against his temples to stop the voice.

"You're fucking crazy, Gil." Robert moved Gil's hands and kissed him again while he moved one of Gil's hands down his pants. "Feel me?" When Gil didn't respond Robert stepped back. "Gil...you love him don't you?"

"Who?"

"That Nick guy. You're staying with him; he lived with you. Do you love him, Gil? Do you hit him when you fuck him?"

What? Robert was the one who..."I want you ...get out." He was losing his patients and his mind. Everything in the room was wrong, he was wrong. Robert was hot...burning, melting him. Fuck, he couldn't think.

Robert stepped closer to him and rubbed his hands down Gil's chest. "What do you want to happen here Gil? What do you think is going on?"

Gil could do nothing but stare at the man in front of him. His head felt numb, he was numb and burning. His body was melting at Robert's touch. "I...stop...I'll melt all over." The room swirled around him. Robert faded in and out of his sight.

Robert smiled at him. "You're amazing, Gil. Amazing and pathetic."

Gil didn't get a chance to blink before he felt a sharp pain at the side of his stomach, then another in his ribs. The next two punches landed square in his chest and stomach. The air caught in his lungs and he bent over in pain. An elbow landed in his back and he fell to the floor gasping for air.

"We're going to have fun today, Gil."

***

When Nick got home and found the door unlocked and Gil gone, he panicked. Jim hadn't heard from him, but he would keep an eye out for him. Catherine yelled at him and told him not to leave just in case he comes back. He didn't want to call Sara or Greg...Warrick wouldn't know.

Damn it! He threw the phone down on his couch. This was bad. Gil was supposed to stay there, not leave, and he left. He fucking bailed! Nick sat down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He felt his cell phone vibrate. It was Gil.

"Where the hell are you," Nick yelled into the phone as way of greeting. Gil was hesitant on the other line, but Nick could hear him breathing. "Gil?"

"Yeah."

Nick noticed his voice was ragged and hoarse. He could barely hear him. "You okay? Where are you?" He tried to keep the concern out of his voice but he knew it wasn't working.

"Be...back soon. Clothes, my clothes...melting, and...can't walk."

Nick stood up as he listened to Gil. He didn't know what he was talking about. "Gil, stay with me. Where are you? What happened?"

"...wet and dirty...so fucking dirty."

Nick was already out the door and into his truck. He put it into gear and spun out of his parking spot. "Gil!?"

"Can't...Oh God Nicky, I'm so sorry."

The obvious pain and confusion made Nick's heart break. The small noises on the other line were no doubt Gil trying to hide the fact that he was crying. "I'm coming to get you. Where are you?"

"Home, I think?"

The sobs were now more pronounced. "Okay, Gil. I'll be right there." There was silence on the other line. "Gil?"

"I'm here...can't walk."

Gil's voice now was just a shaky whisper. Nick knew what was wrong with Gil. He was drugged, again. "Hang on. I'm coming to get you."

"I burn...it burns, like Robert."

Robert? Who the hell was Robert? "Is Robert with you? Who is he?"

"No, he left. I thought...."

"What did you think Gil?" Nick didn't stop for any lights as he raced toward Gil's townhouse. Gil was still muttering on the other line.

"Robert burned all over."

Nick spun the truck down the street Gil lived on. "I'm here, Gil." The truck stopped half in the driveway half in the grass.

Nick jumped out, cell phone forgotten on the passenger seat, and raced toward the door. The front door was open and Gil was sitting just inside the door. Nick's heart nearly broke when he saw the condition Gil was in. Gil was obviously in pain and he was hugging himself. His cell phone was still clenched in his hand. And his clothes, they were twisted and ragged. The shirt was half undone and the shirt tails were stuck through the zipper of his pants, which weren't even zipped up all the way. Gil must have gotten dressed in a hurry or...

"I," Gil swallowed hard as he tried not to cry in front of Nick. "I can't walk. Legs, my legs are gone." He looked down and seemed to stare right through his own legs, confusion written all over his face.

Nick nodded. "They're still there, Gil. I'll help you walk." He helped Gil stand up.

Gil wrenched in pain. "Burning...pain into my skin, Nicky."

"Sorry, it's going to be okay Gil; promise."

As Nick helped Gil walk to the truck and get in, he couldn't help but notice the way he smelled. Nick pulled the seat belt over Gil and fastened it and shut the door. Nick walked around to the drives side and got in. Gil smelled like sex.

Nick put the truck into gear and headed for the interstate. He was going to take Gil to the hospital.

"Don't." Gil's voice was barely a whisper.

Nick looked over and Gil was on the verge of tears again and staring out onto the road. Nick realized that Gil was starting to shake.

"No hospital...please." Gil shook his head.

"I need to get you checked out." Nick was just a few miles from the interstate.

"I won't go in. Turn around."

Nick didn't want to. He wanted to keep going. "What if you've overdose again?"

"I'll be dead by now!"

Nick flinched back at the sudden sharp voice from Gil. Nick felt the steering wheel jerk right. Gil had grabbed the wheel.

"Damn it, Gil! Let go of the wheel." Nick tried to push Gil's hand away.

"Turn around! Now!"

Nick glanced over and caught the fire burning behind Gil's eyes. "Shit." He pulled into a restaurant parking lot and came to a halt. Gil was still staring at him and gripping the wheel. "Gil, it's very important to get you to a hospital. You," he stopped. He didn't want to think about what had happened to Gil, but he had to know. "Someone hurt you Gil, and they are still hurting you. Were you...raped, Gil?"

Gil let go of the steering wheel and sat back against the passenger door. Nick watched as Gil's eyes change from a rage to fear. Gil looked around the truck never meeting Nick's eyes then suddenly turned around and opened the door.

"Gil?" Nick moved to stop him, but Gil was already out of the truck. He opened the door and followed. "Get back in the truck Gil. If this guy who raped you is the same person who killed those people then we need--"

Gil stopped walking. "Need what?"

"We need to find out who this fucker is!"

Gil suddenly and spun around. Nick felt something solid hit him in the jaw. He jerked back, grabbing the side of his face. When he looked up he saw the rage back in Gil's eyes.

Nick stared at Gil. He couldn't believe that he had just hit him. "Gil?"

Gil stepped up to Nick, his hands still clenched in fists. "Why do you care what happens to me?! What makes you think that the person who fucked me had anything to do with anything?! Fuck you and fuck that hospital because I'm not going! Got it," he yelled at Nick before he walked around him and went back to the truck.

Nick stood, stunned. He didn't know what to do about all of this except that Gil needed his help. That very thought made him turn around and get back into the truck. The engine was still running; he had forgotten to turn it off, so he put it in gear and drove off.


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Nick opened the hotel door to find Catherine along side Jim. "Come in." He moved aside so they could enter the hotel room he rented.

Catherine walked by Nick and into the main room. "Nice, Nicky. Who did you have to sweet talk to afford this?" She turned to face him. "So, where is he?"

Nick sighed. "My dad paid for it. Gil's in the bathroom. I made him strip down in there." He handed Catherine the paper bag with Gil's clothes in it. "But as soon as that was over he shut the door."

"It was a good move not going back to the apartment. That was where Gil was taken from, security cameras don't lie." Jim started to walk to the bathroom off the bedroom. "We also got a good photo of the guy. He has Gil's car, so we put an APB out on it." He knocked on the bathroom door. After several minutes of no answer he turned to Nick. "Is he still alive?"

Nick wanted to laugh, but he couldn't remember how. "Yeah, I've been hearing him move around. He had a pack of cigarettes with him. I didn't want him to smoke, but figured if it'd calm him down," he shrugged.

Catherine followed Brass. "Good, I want him calm when I present him with a rape kit." She stopped in front of the door. "Gil? It's me, Catherine. Can I come in?"

They all waited until they heard someone walk across the floor. The door opened halfway and Gil was barely visible in the door. He was dressed only in pajama pants and with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

Gil looked around at the three people in front of him. He took the cigarette out of his mouth. "What do you want?"

Catherine held up the kit. "Rape kit, and I won't take no for an answer. So, move." She pushed open the door and entered the room.

Gil was obviously shocked but recovered by taking another drag off of his cigarette. He took his time as he glanced from Catherine and the kit to Nick and Jim. "Fine, but just Catherine, the rest of you, get out."

They were all surprised by how easily Gil agreed to endure a rape kit. Nick smiled to himself and he and Jim left the room.



A while later Catherine came back in the main room. She sat the kit down and took the offered cup of coffee from Nick. "Thanks."

"How'd it go," Nick asked as he took another drink from his cup.

"Just as I suspected, he did some of it himself because he down right refused to let me do anything that remotely violated him."

Nick nodded. "At least we got the evidence. I hope this Robert guy is in the database."

Jim stopped the cup inches from his mouth and turned to face Nick. "Robert? That's the guy's name?"

Nick swallowed the coffee in his mouth. "Yeah, Gil said that Robert was there but had already left."

Jim closed his eyes. "Oh no."

Catherine and Nick shared a glance. Jim stood up from the couch and walked around the coffee table. Catherine took his place on the couch next to Nick.

"What's all this about?" Nick sat his cup down. "Jim?"

Jim stopped his pacing and sat down on the opposite couch. "Okay. I'll tell you but it doesn't leave this room, understood?"

Both Catherine and Nick nodded.

"The only reason I know this is because Gil can't hold his liquor." Jim sat his cup down and adjusted himself on the couch. "Back when Gil was living in L.A he had a boyfriend, Robert. For the first year or so Robert was the perfect guy right, couldn't do anything wrong. Then, he started to change. He developed a temper and got obsessive. Gil didn't go into much detail, just that Robert would do things to make him stay home or whatever. Robert's obsession and anger got to the point where Gil couldn't do anything without Robert agreeing to it first, or else..."

"Whoa, so Robert was getting abusive," Nick asked.

Jim nodded. "It got bad. Gil finally came to his senses after 'the fight from hell' as Gil put it, and he moved out here to Vegas. He just left and only took what he needed. Anyway, it wasn't until a few years after that when Gil found out what was making Robert like that, it was drugs, as usual. Robert was getting in deep with some very evil people. Robert lost his license and everything."

"He was a doctor," Catherine asked.

"Yeah, Doctor of Psychology, but he was working with the department as a consultant. The F.B.I was even trying to get their hands on him to be a profiler." Jim sat back in the recliner. "The fucking bastard called Gil about, uh...five months ago, wanting to talk. Even told Gil he still loved him and was trying to find a way to move to Vegas. Gil freaked and had the alarm put in." Just then Jim's cell ringed. "I got to take this, excuse me."

Nick leaned back against the couch. "We can't let him get to Gil again."

Catherine nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Robert waited a long time, and until the right time, to do this to Gil."

Nick looked over at her. "What'd you mean?"

"The last few years have taken its tow on everyone, but especially Gil. With what happened with you, Lady Heather, Jim, and then just two months ago with his mother...personally I don't see how Gil stayed ground for these past two years."

Nick frowned in confusion. "His mother? What happened?"

Catherine sighed. "Sorry Nick, I forgot that you didn't know. We found out his mother passed away two months ago."

Nick closed his eyes. "That was around the time that Gil started to act strange." He stopped for a moment to take a drink of his now lukewarm coffee. "What about rehab, for his addiction?"

Catherine shook her head. "Drug rehab is voluntary. He'll have to check himself in."

"Well," Jim walked back into the room. "We have to head out. Nick," he looked square at him. "Keep Gil safe. If you need anything, call me. I'm going to put an officer outside the door just in case."

Catherine stood and faced Nick. "Be careful Nick. Don't let Gil out of your sight."

Nick stood and hugged Catherine. "I won't. Promise." He gave Jim a pat on the back. "Good luck."

Nick watched Jim and Catherine leave. He shut the hotel door and leaned back against it. Tonight, Nick decided, he was going to pray. It would be the first time since Jim had gotten shot that he had resorted to prayer.


77777777777


Nick felt exposed, like someone was watching him. He blinked his eyes open to the dark room of the hotel. The couch was hurting his back, so he shifted to lie on his side. When he moved he caught the glimpse of a figure kneeling on the floor next to him.

"Jesus!" Nick nearly jumped out of his skin. The figure moved and leaned forward. It was Gil. "Gil. What are you doing?" He sat up and rubbed his face.

"Smoking." Gil raised the cigarette in his right hand to his mouth. "I was trying to wake you, actually."

"What time is it?" Nick looked around for his watch.

"Last I checked, three in the morning. Nick...can I have some aspirin. I got a headache."

Nick stood and walked around Gil. "You don't need it. Probably caffeine headache."

Gil's eyes slightly narrowed. He took another drag off the cigarette and nodded. "You're right, I just need some coffee."

Nick stretched and looked down at Gil. "I'm going to take a shower and clean up. You can go ahead and call for breakfast. I'll eat anything."

Gil smiled a little. "Omelet sound good?"

Nick nodded as he walked toward the bathroom. "Yeah, I'll be out in about ten to twenty minutes."

Gil watched Nick walk off to the bathroom. Once the door was shut Gil got up and picked up the phone. "Room service? Can I order breakfast this early? Good...Room 341. Yes, I'll have two meals, both with a southwestern style omelet, coffee, toast, ham, and fruit. Also, I have a real bad headache do you...Thank you that would be great...five minutes? And thirty minutes for the food, sounds good. Thank you, bye."

Gil hung up the phone and stared at the red light indicating that someone was on the other phone. He looked up to see Nick standing in the doorway with the bedroom phone in his hand. Gil suddenly had a sinking sick feeling in his stomach. His concern wasn't that Nick caught him, but that he wasn't going to get his aspirin.

Nick hung up the phone and sat it down. "I thought I could trust you." He rubbed his temples with the palm of his hands. "Damn it Gil, don't you even want to help yourself?" His hands dropped back to his sides. "This is getting out of hand. I don't think I can handle doing this. Helping someone, especially someone like you, go through withdrawal is not something I can do...but I have no choice. You're going to have to help me out here. I need to be able to trust you."

Gil looked down at the floor and closed his eyes. He knew Nick was right, but it didn't matter what he thought. What mattered was the itching in his arms, the pounding in his head, and the endless ache and burning in his body.

A knock interrupted Gil's thoughts. His aspirin was there. Gil went to go and answer the door when Nick stepped in front of him.

"I'll get it." Nick opened the door. "Thanks, but we don't need those now, just a little caffeine withdrawal." He shut the door and turned back around.

Gil looked bewildered. He didn't know what to do. Nick had just sent away his pills. "Nick? Please don't do this."

Nick stepped away from the door and started to walk to the bathroom. "I'm not doing this. You are." He entered the bathroom and turned on the shower water. Gil was on his heels. "No pills," he turned around to face Gil. "Even if they are just aspirin. You need to beat this. You're smarter than this, think it through yourself. What do you need to do?"

Gil looked lost. Nick was trying to get him to focus, but he couldn't. The only thing he could focus on was the pain and exhaustion. "I don't need to do anything. You are the one who needs to do something. Get my pills back."

Nick stood his ground in front of Gil. "I'm not going to let you do this. It's your choice, either you let me help you beat this, or you let Robert win. Which is it?"

Robert? What the hell did Robert have to do with anything? How did Nick even know about Robert? "I don't...Nicky, you don't understand." Gil stepped closer to Nick. "Please Nicky; I just need to get rid of the pain. Help me do that." He stopped only centimeters away from Nick, which caused Nick to back up against the sink. His eyes roamed over Nick before they settled on Nick's eyes. "Don't make me beg, Nicky." He let his hands come up and skim down Nick's sides. "My head won't stop hurting...please."

Nick nearly jumped at the sudden movements by Gil. He knew that this wasn't Gil. Gil would never scope so low as to try to get his way by tempting them. Nick grabbed Gil's hands before he went any lower with them and pushed him back. God he wanted Gil, but this was so wrong on so many levels. "Gil...stop, this isn't like you. Can't you see that?"

Nick could tell that Gil was struggling with something in his head before he pushed Nick back against the sink.

"Don't tell me what I'm like and not like." Gil was starting to shake again. "I'm not like some fucked up puppy like you who doesn't know what's up or down unless he gets complimented for it."

Nick stopped trying to get Gil to move back from him. This was definitely not Gil. "Mind games aren't going to work on me. I'm not the same hero-worshipping kid you knew seven years ago. I've grown up, and I don't need permission to tell you off when you can't tell the truth that's right in front of you. You're addicted, Gil. You need help. Drugs have made the most brilliant men crumb because they thought they were too smart to let the drugs win, but they were all wrong, Gil. The drugs always won."

Gil was trembling now. His whole body felt like it was being destroyed in a car crash. Temples throbbed, heart pounded in his chest, legs were weak and aching just like the rest of his body, arms itched like crazy and burned. He closed his eyes against the ripple of pain shooting through them. He just knew he was dying. The only thing that keep him from feeling the pain were pills. He needed them. "Please, Nicky...can't breathe."

Nick caught Gil as his legs gave out from under him. He lowered Gil to the floor and felt Gil's arms wrap around him. Nick had never seen Gil hug anybody, but now Gil was hugging him so hard it seemed like he was hanging on to life itself. He could do nothing but hug Gil back.


77777777


Brass held the door open for Catherine. "Let's cross our fingers and hope this guy knows something."

Catherine walked by him. "If he remembered Gil, he'll remember Robert."

They walked into the entrance of Johnny's Lounge and up to the counter. Andy the bartender was cleaning up from behind the bar.

Brass smiled at him. "Remember me, Andy right?"

Andy nodded. "What can I do for you Detective?"

Brass reached into his jacket pocket. "I need you to identify someone for me." He showed him the picture they got off the security camera. "Do you recognize him?"

"Yeah," Andy nodded. "He was the one who picked Nicholas' friend up."

Catherine stepped closer to the bar after looking around the place. "Do you know his name?"

"Nope. Is that all?" Andy went back to cleaning the bar.

Brass interrupted him. "No. Are you sure you've never seen him in here before?"

Andy stopped cleaning. "I'm positive I've never seen him, but I'm not speaking for the other bartender. She might have seen him before."

"You know anyone by the name of Robert? Maybe he's been in here but disguised himself."

Andy went back to cleaning. "The only Robert I knew that comes in here is a Trooper. He comes in, makes sure everything is okay...We had a fight in here about three months ago. I wasn't working but I heard about it. Every since then Trooper Doyle comes in here, checks the place out and talks to some of the people, then leaves."

Brass wrote the information down. "Thanks. We'll keep in touch."

7777777777

Nick stood leaning against the bedroom doorway watching Gil pace the main room. It had been two hours since the episode in the bathroom. Gil fell asleep on the floor and Nick let him sleep. Not an hour later Gil was up pacing the hotel room, only stopping to get another cigarette. Nick tried to get him to eat but Gil couldn't hold anything down except for a little bit of soup.

Gil stopped in his steps and refilled a cup up with coffee, took a big gulp, then continued his pacing while taking a drag off the cigarette. His anxiety was starting to rub off on Nick as he kept watching Gil pace. He was starting to get jumpy.

"What are you thinking about," Nick finally asked from the doorway. He was tired and wanted to sleep, but as long as Gil was awake, he was awake.

Gil kept pacing. "I'm trying to remember."

"Remember what?"

Gil glanced up at Nick. "Everything."

Nick nodded. "I'm sorry about your mom, Gil. No wonder you were depressed. I would be too."

Gil stopped and stared at Nick, confused. "My mother?"

Nick stiffened. Did Gil not know? Or did he forget? "Two months ago, she passed away. Aneurism, she died in her sleep."

Gil stood frozen for a moment. His mom died two months ago. "Oh, God." He shook his head. Was that the reason he was always trying to get to California, but Trooper Doyle...Robert, always stopped him. "I need to get out of here. I can't remember..."

Nick stepped away from the doorframe. "Let me talk to the officer outside, maybe you can walk in the hallway." He stopped in front of Gil and out a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

Gil watched Nick open the door and talk to the officer. He picked up his new pack of cigarettes that Nick got for him. He wasn't allowed to have medicine but Nick let him smoke, how ironic that Nick let him do something that could kill him but not help him. It was because no one cared, Gil thought, not a single person cared. His mom cared, but now she was gone. A tear slid down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away.

"Okay," Nick called from the door. "You can walk out in the hall, but just to one end to the other. Make sure the officer can see you at all times, understand."

Gil nodded and put the pack and lighter in his pocket. "I developed cognitive thinking a long time ago Nick." He walked by Nick and out into the hallway. "I understand completely."

Nick watched Gil start down the hall at a slow pace. Once Gil got to the end of the hall and turned around to come back, Nick looked at the officer and nodded, then shut the door. He had to call Catherine.


777777777777


"I just got off the phone with Nick," Catherine said as she entered Brass' office. "Gil didn't remember that his mom passed away. And Nick's letting him smoke."

"Once Gil comes back around to his normal self he'll stop smoking. He just needs it now as a crutch." Brass didn't take his eyes off the computer screen in front of him or move his mouth away from the phone. "He should be fine, once this is all over, he'll come to terms with his mom. At least, I hope he will." He leaned back in the chair and looked at Catherine. "I finally got a hold of someone with the State Department. Those guys are so slow this time in the morning."

Catherine sat down in front of his desk. "At least you got a hold of someone. I tried contacting them before, took me a week to finally get through to someone with half a brain."

Brass laughed. "Let's hope this person has one, I don't have a week." After a pause he turned back to the phone. "Hello, this is Captain Jim Brass with the LVPD. I'm trying to contact...Yes he's with the Nevada State Troopers...Robert Doyle." He looked over at Catherine. "They put me on hold. How's Nick doing?"

"He's tired, worried, but patient. I was going to try to find someone who could go there after work and stay. Nick needs the relief."

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm not sure."

Catherine's cell rang. "Willows....That's great, Greg. Keep working, I'll be at the lab after I finish up with Brass." She hung up and looked up at Brass. "That was Greg; the DNA from the bastard that raped Gil matches the unknown DNA from the Carter Matthews crime scene."

"Gil is being proved more and more innocent. Robert's slipping up bad..."

Catherine shook her head. "He's been planning this for a long time. Everything that has happened has been for a reason."

Brass contemplated that then went back to the phone. "Yeah, I'm here." He listened intensively to the person talking on the other side of the phone. "Are you sure? Thank you." He hung up the phone and looked up at Catherine. "Trooper Doyle was killed while on duty five months ago."


77777777777


"I just checked on him a few minutes ago, why?" Nick gripped the phone as he listened to the frantic voice of Catherine on the other end. "Okay, thanks Cath. I'll get Gil back in here and see what he knows. I'll call you back. Bye."

Nick hurried to the door. He looked out into the hallway, but no one was there. "Gil!" His heart raced as he ran down the hallway and out through the closest stairwell. The officer that was supposed to be guarding their door was lying dead in the stairwell, throat slashed.

The stairway echoed with just the pounding steps of Nick as he ran down the stairs. The door bounced off the wall as he ran through it and out into the parking garage. Nick looked franticly around. They couldn't have gone far.

Nick took off running through the parking garage. He was looking for one car. Gil's car. He came to a halt when he stopped the light blue '59 Mercedes Benz pulling out of a parking spot. Gil was struggling in the back seat, looked like his were cuffed behind his back. Nick acted without much thought. He ran up along the passenger side of the car, Robert apparently hadn't spotted him yet, and reached from the handle.

Gil caught sight of Nick running up to the car. His breath caught as Robert spotted Nick in his rearview window and as soon as Nick grabbed the handle spun the car back quickly.

Nick lost his grip on the car and twisted around to be directly in front of the car. Robert grinned at him just before he stomped on the gas. Nick barely got out of the way of the car as it raced by him and down the turns of the garage. He tried to keep up with the car but he knew it was a losing battle. The car spun out onto the street and down the strip into traffic.

Nick caught his breath as he watched the car disappear in the traffic. Gil was gone, again, but this time Nick didn't know if they would get him back.

***

Gil kept kicking the back of the seat. His pulse was racing, head spinning, and the cuffs were digging into his skin they were so tight, but most of all, Robert tried to hit Nick, his Nicky.

Robert kept yelling at him to stop, but he wasn't caring. If Robert pulled over on a busy Las Vegas street and tried to do something, someone would see. Maybe an off duty officer, or sheriff, or some guy who wanted to be a hero.

"Damn it, Gil! Stop kicking my fucking seat," Robert spat from the driver's seat.

Gil's legs were starting to grow heavy and weak. He pounded the seat one last time and stopped, sweat was running down his forehead and into his eyes. Lungs felt like they were going to explode. He doubled over and panted for air, he should have never started smoking again. He heard Robert laugh from the front seat.

"Need a cigarette," Robert asked with a grin. "Or, how about some pills to make all the pain go away." He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle. He unscrewed the lid, never taking his eyes off the road, and threw some back at Gil. "Three enough."

Gil stared at the pills scattered on the seat. "How am I supposed to take them?"

Robert looked back at Gil and laughed. "Sorry, forgot you were cuffed. But I've seen you pull off the get-the-cuffed-hands-over-the-feet trick. Do that."

Gil sighed. He really didn't want to, but the cuffs were killing his hands. He could already feel small lines of blood run down his them. He lay back on the seat and lifted his legs up and maneuvered his arms down them, then with all the ounce of energy and flexibility he had, got them up and over his legs. By the time he was done, he was huffing again, but his hands and arms felt better. He tried to ease the dull pain in his wrist by rubbing them, but that was a losing battle.

He sat back up and leaned against the seat. The pills had been pushed off the seat by his struggling and now laid floor board, so he bent down to pick them up, but he stopped himself. He needed to think, figure things out, but he couldn't function without the pills. He wanted to believe otherwise, but he had a hard time not believing that was true.

The pills stayed where they were on the floor as he sat back and tried to concentrate. There were clues here that he needed to figure out. He was a brilliant analyst; he could figure this out...right? It was a sad and miserable day when he doubted his own ability to analyze the evidence. Think Gil, he thought, just start with what you know.

Robert, he knew Robert. Robert was the kind of man to hold a grudge for years, even go through heaven and hell to follow through with a grudge, or revenge.

Was that what this was about? Did Robert have a grudge against him, or a false need for revenge? He helped the board revoke Robert's license, which ultimately caused him to lose his job with the lab and any potential job with the FBI.

Well, Gil breathed out, there was a pretty damn good reason, but it didn't fit.

Robert's DNA would match the DNA at the crime scene he processed. Nick collected the evidence, so he couldn't be charged with tampering. Robert was seen taking him from Nick's and putting him in his own car which proved Robert was trying to frame him all along. Robert was now the main suspect. He could even press charges against Robert for about a dozen crimes that he committed on him.

What was he missing? Why would Robert want to frame him, but then ultimately fail? What if Robert didn't fail? That realization hit him, "You want me to lose everything, don't you?"

"Damn Gil, you can be pretty smart when you want to be." Robert looked at Gil through the rearview mirror then back at the road. "The thing is, about my plan, is that the crime has to be high profile to work, to have an effect. No, no, it couldn't be some amateur, low key, bullshit that makes the news after it happens. It had to be the news. Like the D.C. sniper case or O.J., Ramsey. And how big can you get than Las Vegas finest and most brilliant CSI, Gil Grissom. People know you from here to fucking China." He turned off a highway and headed for the desert. "Forensic shows are flooding the airwaves. Weren't you the one who told that reality T.V. camera man that 'there're too many forensic shows on T.V.'? America is obsessed with this shit. See, Gil, what's so brilliant about my plan is that it will completely screw with the concept that the evidence never lies. It lies, Gil, it lies all the fuckin' time. We, as investigators of the crime, refuse to see it that way. People are framed all the time, planted hair, semen, fingerprints. It's all been done, but what if...What if it was all the truth, but everyone thought it was a lie. No fucking framing going on, but the evidence is so twisted...The truth the investigators found proved the truth, but it wasn't. You're going to be the man who proved it all. 'The Man Who Sold the World', that would be me. I'll be a victim to the media and the world; the murderer to God and the Devil. Hell, the Devil will probably shake my hand."

Gil shook his head. Robert had completely lost it. It didn't make any sense. Robert was still ranting as he drove.

"What then? What then, Gil! Death. That's what. I've never expected to live through this. And when I die, what will I be? A martyr, person to remember, that's me. Fucking going down in history," Robert yelled with a twisted grin on his face.

"Only the murderer gets remembered. Can you name one victim of Ted Bundy?"

Robert looked back at Gil. "That's because they were just random nobodies. I'm somebody. You killed those poor fags...because of me, Gil. I'm your inspiration. Fuckin' brilliant, don't you think?"

Gil stared at Robert through the rearview mirror. "It won't work. You're missing a key element. No one will believe that I did this, not the people who matter, anyway. I'll have more than you ever had after your name was ruined. My team will believe I'm innocent. They'll find the real truth and I'll be set free."

Robert stopped smiling and stared hard at the road. "I'll make sure they don't."

"You'll be dead."

Robert slowed down the speed of the car, like he was about to pull over. But he didn't. "I have time. I can just see next weeks headline, 'Suspected killer, CSI Grissom, kills CSI friends', full coverage page 2." He started to smile again. "Damn Gil, they were your friends, how could you do such a thing."

Gil stayed calm in the backseat. He could probably jump out of the car without any serious injury. But he couldn't run faster then a car. How was he going to stop Robert...Could he even stop him?

The dry desert passed before him as he stared out the window. Through his still clouded mind, it all clicked into place like any other crime he'd solved. Gil finally understood it completely. It wasn't just about ruining his name; that had already been done. It was about him going down for this.

He leaned his forehead against the cold glass of the window. He was the one that was going to suffer, to have to pay for the crimes he never committed.

All the evidence that was pointing to Robert now, was going to convict one Gil Grissom when it was all said and done. It would prove that Robert was just another pawn, victim, in his twisted fantasy.

Tears welled up in his eyes even as he tried to will them down. It wasn't just the fact that Robert would get away with it, or that he might spend the rest of his life in prison or die from lethal injection, but that maybe people would really believe that he did it.

He was going to lose it all, just like Robert had. He was going to be nothing but a name. Court T.V. serial killer exclusive.

Albert Fish, John Wayne Gacy, Ted Bundy, Ed Gein...Gil Grissom.


7777777777


Nick was staring at the break room table. He wasn't allowed to do anything. No evidence he could collect, no security or traffic videos to watch, no files to read over. The chair screeched back as he stood. He rampaged through the community fridge for something desirable to eat, but found nothing.

"You okay," Catherine asked from the doorway.

Nick turned to face her. "Do I look okay," he nearly barked at her.

She held her hands up in surrender. "No. Sorry, I'm not trying to sound insensitive. I'm feeling the same way you are--"

"No, you're not! You can help. I can't!" Nick sat back down in the chair and rested his head in his hands. "I feel helpless. He was my responsibility. I only let him walk around in the hallway because I felt guilty about telling him about his mother. If only I didn't say that..."

"Nick," Catherine rubbed his shoulder. "It's not your fault this happened. If Gil was still in the hotel room, Robert would have found a way in and might have hurt, if not killed, you to get him." There was a pause. "We're tracking down this Trooper Doyle lead. If Robert was pretending to be him, then maybe he was living in his house, or using his patrol car. Once we find something, you can help process that, but only in the lab."

Nick nodded and looked up at Catherine. "Sorry, I just hate not being able to do something."

Catherine tried for a smile, but she was too stressed to succeed. "I know. What did you find out about the contents in the envelope I gave you?"

Nick frowned. "I never looked at it. Hadn't had the time...I think it's still in my truck." He got up and headed out the door. "I'll go over it while I wait."



Nick grabbed the white envelope out of the back seat of his truck. It was thick and the seal had already been broken, Catherine must have already taken a look at it, but needed a different perspective.

As Nick headed back to the lab, a group of T.V. news reporters were broadcasting live from the crime lab. Ecklie walked by a few stating 'no comment' one after another. Nick turned and started walked through the back entrance to the locker room when a reporter spotted him and started to pounce.

"CSI Stokes, right?"

A reporter, who couldn't be more than fifteen, came up to him. Nick kept walking. "No comment."

The reporter stopped in front of Nick causing him to stumble a little before he moved to the side. "Rick Masters, Channel 5. Is it true that you and CSI--and main suspect--Gil Grissom are in a relationship?"

Nick stopped and turned to the reporter. "Where did you hear that?"

Rick smiled. "Word flies." He went back to reporting. "You and suspect, CSI Gil Grissom shared a hotel room last night. How does this new development affect the lab's influence on the case, and your relationship with the suspect?" He stuck the microphone up to Nick's face.

Nick was fuming. He wanted to take the microphone away and stick it up the teenager's ass, but instead he just shook his head and proceeded into the lab. "No comment."



Warrick greeted him from the bench in front of his locker. "Hey, man. You doing okay?"

Nick stalked into the locker room. "Yeah, fuckin' great considering the fact that Gil is missing and I was just outted on television...well, kinda outted."

Warrick looked up at him and laughed. "No one believes media vultures. They're always diggin' and runnin' on every rumor mill working from here to the moon. Just, don't pay attention to it."

"Don't pay attention!" Nick slammed the envelope down on the bench and opened his own locker and started pulling out clothes to change into. "The whole world is paying attention to this. Media frenzy from here to the moon. Astronauts on Jupiter know what's goin' on and are glued to their satellites. And just two minutes ago, a snot nose fifteen year old reporter just asked me in front of ninety billion people if it's true that Gil and I are in a relationship and how the case is being influence by our relationship and us sharing a hotel room! I mean, there's no way I can just not pay attention, Rick." He didn't want to take his anger out on his best friend, but Warrick was the first one he saw who said the wrong damn thing and the wrong damn time.

Warrick stood up and shut his locker. "I didn't know he said all that. Hey, Nick," he put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You have got to keep strong and your head together. Anger isn't going to help anyone. Trust me on this. With what happened to you, I couldn't think straight most of the time because I was so angry. Once we find Griss and he is cleared, it'd pass over."

Nick let out a breath. "I know, but it won't be over for us. He'll never be back, Rick."

Warrick squeezed his shoulder harder and brought Nick into a quick hug. "Whatever happens, I'll be here for the both of you. Remember, we're all rooting for you guys...maybe not Sara, but she'll come around. Don't lose hope." And with that he let Nick go. "I'm going to get some take-out. Chinese or pizza?"

Nick smirked. "Pizza, the usual."

Warrick walked past him. "Pizza with anchovies it is."

Nick laughed and turned back to his locker. "If there's any anchovies on that, you better be praying."

"Ooo, fightin' words." Warrick pushed the door open with his back and started punching the air in front of him, then laughed and was gone out the door.

Nick chuckled as he finished dressing. There was still hope yet. He picked up the envelope and walked out of the locker room and into the lab.


7777777777


Robert pushed him in the back with his gun. Registered 9 millimeter to a one Gilbert Grissom, Las Vegas Crime Lab. Full clip, because he had never fired a gun except for practice. Never shot a person, and hoped he would never have to. He stumbled over a fallen log but caught his balance even with his hands still cuffed in front of him.

Lake Tahoe was looking beautiful this time of year. Too bad it would be the last time he saw it. He had a dream once where he brought Nick up there. Had the prefect day just fishing and talking, drinking and laughing, then later on that night, they had camped out under the stars. Once the wine had completely hit them, they forgot everything and every reason why they shouldn't be together. Age, work, personal difference, all of it out the window as they made each other complete with passion beyond their wildest fantasies.

"Stop daydreaming and walk faster. I want to get there before night falls."

Gil was woken from his thoughts by the sharp pain of the gun digging into his back. So much for happiness.

Before the sun descended completely behind the mountains, a small wooden cabin came into view. The place looked like it hadn't been occupied in years.

"How'd you find this," Gil asked as he walked up the steps and onto the porch.

"Trooper Doyle left it to me after he died. Open the door." Robert dug the gun in deeper.

Gil got it. Only his fingerprints would be found in the cabin, since Robert was wearing gloves the whole time. He opened the door and immediately stepped back. The stench of death filled the air. He was focused to walk forward and as he entered the cabin he saw what had to be where all those men were beaten to death.

The ceiling, walls, and floor were coated in blood stains, some dry, some not. A metal chain with a hook at the end hung from the ceiling in the main living room. It hung just high enough to tie a person to it and use them as a human punching bag.

Gil felt his stomach wanting to lurch. He willed the nausea down like always and observed the cabin. The windows were nailed shut and black plastic which looked like the kind for trash bags covered them. The door had three dead bolts and a pad lock, just like his garage door. He wouldn't be surprised to find that Robert had bought them at the same place he got his. Consistency.

"How are you going to do it?" Gil sat down at the weather damaged table in the small kitchen and watched Robert start preparing a meal with gloved hands, soup and grilled cheese.

"Do what," Robert asked as he heated up the can of soup.

"Kill yourself and make it look like I did it."

Robert turned and looked at Gil. A smile forming on his face. "Easy," he said as he turned back to cooking. "Keep feeding you, starve myself. Drug you up so bad you start hitting me...I've done that before. Then finally, take your gun put it in your hand while you're so fucked up to know what's going on, point it at my head, then," he shrugged. "Pull the trigger, but not after I call the police and tell them where I'm at and that a deranged Gil Grissom is trying to kill me." He put the pan on a burner. "Easy as pie."

Gil listened to Robert explain his plan. A statement caught him off guard. Robert had made him violent before. The nightmares he had been having flooded into his conscious. "I thought they were just nightmares...?"

Robert turned around and leaned against the counter. "You can't possibly think this is the first time I experimented with this." He started laughing. "Oh, Gil. You can be so fucking dumb for such a brilliant man."

So, Robert had been working up to this for years? It was never about revenge, but a sadistic plan even before he left LA? Gil thought back on all the times in California when he would lose his temper for no reason or forget things that had happened.

Robert was making it work. Everything that has ever happened in his life was going to make all the evidence fall into place. The perfect and biggest lie to ever shake the country. And Robert selected him to be the damn rat in the cage.

Gil stared hard at Robert. "I can't believe that I actually loved you."

Robert laughed. "You've always been attracted to the truly fucked up. Lady Heather fucked a man to get evidence, and then tried to whip him to death. Poor Nicky boy was fucked by his babysitter, fucked him up for life. Hell, even that eight year old girl you "proposed" to, she's now in prison for murder. You remember her, Gil, that nice, young girl with the red ponytails that you had a crush on from second grade up until high school. Joni, Jeanne..."

"Jamie."

"Yeah, Jamie, see, I knew you remembered her because you saved her from her boyfriend. What was his name?"

Gil thought back to high school. "Johnny...People used to have fun with their names, both J's."

"John Davis. He would have gone all the way in his basketball career. Lakers were scoping him out for years."

Gil sat back at the name. John Davis. This was about revenge.

"Anyway," Robert continued. "You went searching for insects or whatever at High Point; came across them in his car. He was trying to have his wicked way with her as she screamed and plead for him to stop. After you beat Johnny up and took Jamie home, she made you think she loved you, didn't she. You lost your virginity to that whore that night. She never talked to you again, didn't even look at you the next day at school. But, it didn't matter, right. Because the next day at the morgue, you performed an autopsy on John, car accident, right? You killed him, maybe not directly, but in a way. He wouldn't have been driving home that night at that certain time if you hadn't had spoiled his fun."

Gil started to feel himself shake. The small amount of light in the cabin was starting to hurt his eyes and his head felt like it was swelling with pain. He closed his eyes and tried to get himself to relax, but a migraine was coming on full force. When he opened his eyes back up his vision was clouded and blurred. A wave of nausea swiped over him in a rush. He gripped the side of the table to keep his balance.

"What, does the thought of this make you sick, Gil? Can't believe I waited all these years to punish you? I had no choice in the matter really; it was all up to you, and Nick of course. He's the first man you've ever concerned being with after me. It's the perfect time to set you off, that's what the media will say."

The sound of Robert's voice vibrated off Gil's ears and caused a rippling effect of pain shoot through the side of his head. He felt himself shake his head from side to side, causing more nausea.

"Did you take any of those pills?"

Gil didn't want to move his head again so he settled for sign language. He signed 'no' to Robert then shut his eyes again and tried to will the nausea away.

"Hang on."

Gil heard Robert leave the cabin, the wooden screen door banged on the doorway. The taste of blood was apparent on his tongue as he bit hard on his lower lip. He was shaken by Robert moments later as he pulled one of his hands away from his head. Robert put three pills in his hand and then went to get him a cup of water.

Gil stared at the tiny, blurry, white capsules in his hand as sweat started to run down his face. He had two options: drugged up and a part of Robert's sick game, or, save his own life.

Robert sat the glass down on the table in front of him. Gil looked up at Robert then back down at the glass of water. He picked it up the same time he popped the pills in his mouth.


7777777777


Nick put the paper down that he was reading and leaned back in the chair. He'd been waiting around for hours for something to happen.

Greg walked in and gave him a weak smile. "No progress. Just to let you know before you asked." He grabbed his coffee cup and filled it. "It takes forever to find things out. I was on the phone with a credit card company for an hour before I actually got to talk to a person." He sat down next to Nick and looked at the papers in front of him. "What's that?"

Nick stuffed the papers back in the envelope before Greg could look at them. "Just some stuff, nothing important to the case. Find anything out about property Doyle might've had?"

"We have more red tape to get through before we can get his information. His widow refuses to cooperate, but we did search his house, well, Warrick and Sara did...they didn't find anything."

Nick frowned. "So, we have nothing."

"Nick," Greg leaned closer to him. "I don't know for sure what's going on with you and Grissom, but I have your back."

Nick smiled a little at that. He knew Greg was telling him the truth. "Thanks Greg."

Greg smiled and nodded as he stood up. "Just, keep safe and always remember...Never ride bareback until you're well prepared. Word from the wise."

Nick stared stunned for a moment then starting laughing. That was the best he'd felt all day. "Who have you been riding bareback with?"

Greg looked over his shoulder at Nick as he headed out of the break room. "I'll never tell."

Nick was still laughing after Greg left the room.


7777777777


"Thank you, Judge. You won't regret this." Brass flipped his cell shut as he entered the crime lab. He quickly tracked down Catherine in A/V lab with Archie. "Hey Catherine, Arch. I just got off the phone with Judge Lee, he gave us the warrant."

Catherine turned back to Archie who was going through all the footage from every traffic light from the hotel to the outskirts. "If you find anything, call me."

"Anything for you, Cath," Archie stated while never taking his eyes off the computer screen.

Catherine met up with Brass in the hall. "Did you inform Kevin?"

"Yeah, he's on his way over. Poor kid isn't used to the hours, went home to sleep. Rookie."

They found the rest of the time in the break room. Catherine didn't wait from Kevin to get there or care that Nick was sitting at the table before she filled everyone in.

"We got the warrant to get any and all information about Trooper Robert Doyle--"

"Are we sure that this Robert guy who has him isn't the Trooper," Kevin asked as he entered the break room and sat down.

"We're positive. The first name was either a coincidence or our suspect targeted him just for that reason, we're not sure." Catherine threw an apologetic smile to Kevin before she continued. "Brass had an APB put out for Gil's car. We got several hits but nothing conclusive. Archie is going over all the traffic footage. Warrick, help him out on that. Sara and Greg, continue working on the evidence from the hotel. Kevin, Brass, and I are going to go through Doyle's information. Keep me posted."


7777777777


Robert un-cuffed Gil's hands as Gil leaned up against him. Robert pushed Gil away, but Gil would sway on his feet and fall back against Robert.

"Feel...dizzy," Gil said as Robert opened the door.

"I'm not surprised. Those pills are strong, and you need sleep."

Robert pushed Gil into the room. The sudden movement caused Gil to fall to the floor. He was able to catch himself on the floor before his face hit it. Robert tossed a half frozen water bottle into the room. "I'm locking this from the outside and the windows are nailed shut. No point in trying to get out. I'll be back in a while. Get some sleep."

The door banged shut behind Gil. He listened until the door was locked before he got up and looked around the room. An old bed with nothing but a box spring occupied the room. He settled on the bed next to the water bottle and opened his mouth. Three pills fell into his palm. His entire body was killing him, but he had to concentrate on getting out of there. The only way he could do that was to out smart Robert in his own game.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes and his Zippo lighter. After lighting one up and taking a few puffs he went to the window and carefully took down the black plastic that covered it. Four nails held the window down, two at top, two at the bottom.

Gil's first thought was to break the window, but he quickly learned that that the glass was unbreakable. Maybe he could pull or break the side panels off? He looked and discovered they were made of metal, not wood. They had to be brand new. Robert thought about everything, except the nails. Nails could be taken out. He looked at his lighter, then at the nails. Iron, atomic number 26. Iron metal expanded with heat, and if he expanded the nail that would also expand the hole.

He looked back at the water bottle. Cool the nail down, the hole remained bigger; slide the nail right out. A smile formed around the cigarette as he bent down, flipped open his lighter and ignited it under one of the nails.

The brain definitely worked better without drugs.

***

Nick stared at the picture that had fallen out of the white envelope and onto the floor in Grissom's office. Once the break room got busy and everyone was trying to "console" him, he got up and went into Grissom's office and shut the door and locked it.

The picture was old and faded around the edges, but the person on the right, wearing a ridiculously looking birthday hat, caught his eye. Grissom was obviously younger, mid-twenties Nick presumed, and in the middle of singing, at least that was what it looked like, to the guy on his left. The other guy was trying hard not to laugh as he looked sideways at Grissom.

He picked the picture up and turned it over. The words on the back made his breath catch; it read: 'Robert's 25th Birthday! June, 1983'. He turned the picture back over and stared at the man next to Grissom. That was Robert.

His jaw clenched shut and his left hand balled into a fist. This had to be before Gil found out what kind of guy Robert really was if the smile and apparent love was that strong in his eyes. Nick finally remembered to breathe when his lungs stared to burn. He put the picture back in the envelope and opened the office door.

Warrick walked by him. "Nick, you okay?"

Nick continued walking to the locker room. He barely heard Warrick yell his name as he went through the door and out the back. He needed to go to Gil's house.


7777777777


Nick turned on the lights to Gil's bedroom. Dust was covering everything making the room look grey even with the lights on. He bypassed the bed and went to the closet. Hopefully Gil still had his old high school yearbook.

After looking through just about every box, he finally saw what he was looking for. "Santa Monica High, Senior Year, '74."

The lock to the front door clicked into place as he locked the door behind him. He made his way to his truck with a smile. They had a name.


77777777777


Nick located Catherine and Brass in her office. "Jim, Cath, I have something for you." He didn't wait to be told to come in before he sat down in front of the senior supervisor and next to the detective. "I have Robert's full name. Robert Christopher Davis, date of birth June 2, 1958."

Brass sat his coffee mug down and looked over at Nick. "How'd you find that out?"

Nick smiled and held up the white envelope Catherine had given him. "I found a picture in here. It must have been misplaced." He pulled out the picture and handed it to Jim.

Brass looked at it. It was a picture of Gil and who Jim guessed was Robert. He flipped it over. The back read, 'Robert's 25th Birthday! June, 1983', he looked up at Nick. "That's still his first name, Nicky." He handed the picture off to Catherine.

Nick frowned at Brass. "Ye of little faith. The date, Jim. If Robert was twenty-five in 1983, that means he graduated from high school in..."

"1976," Catherine stated.

"Bingo. I didn't know for sure but I had a hunch. Maybe Robert went to the same high school as Grissom. And what do you know," Nick held up the yearbook. "Robert would have been a sophomore when Griss was a senior." He opened the book up to the page he had marked with a black tab and handed it over to Catherine. "That's Robert."

Catherine put the picture beside the book's picture. Robert had age a little, but there was no doubt it was him. "Good job, Nick. Now we can finally get all his information."

"That's not all," Nick said as he got up out of the chair and walked around Catherine so he could look over her shoulder. "Look," he flipped the page to the other page he'd marked with the blue tab. "Robert had a brother, John Davis. That's John and his girlfriend, Jamie Anderson." He then flipped the page again to the green tab. "The Science Club. That's Gil, there's Jamie. She's the only one that signed his yearbook," he pointed to the left hand corner, which had a hand written note that read: 'Thank you Gil. For everything. Jamie A.' "That got me thinking. Gil was friends with Robert's older brother's girlfriend. Something might have happened, and it did." He went back around to his chair and picked up the envelope and pulled some papers out. "I just got these from LAPD and from the LA County morgue. I called them on my way over and had the information faxed to me here." He sat down in the chair and looked at the papers. "On March 6, 1974, Jamie Anderson filed charges against John Davis for attempted rape. She gave a statement which include," he looked at one of the papers in his hand. "Then Gil Grissom--who's in my Science Club--came out of nowhere and pulled me out of the car. John got out but Gil didn't let anything else happen to me. He punched John a lot. He then took me home in his car. Gil's so cool, man. His mom lets him drive her Mercedes Benz, 1959. It's groovy...like him." Nick stopped reading and laughed at the last statement. "Anyway. The case was looked into but dropped because John was killed that night on his way home. It was a hit-and-run." He looked up at Catherine. "Guess who the corner was?"

"Gil."

"Yep. He filed a statement before he did the autopsy about knowing the victim, but he was the only coroner on duty so preceded."

Brass took the papers from Nick and put them inside the yearbook after Catherine had handed it to him. "I'll see what I can find about Robert C. Davis." He turned to Nick. "Good job. Don't let Ecklie know you did this, you're not supposed to be on this case."

Nick smiled over at Brass. "I'm not."

"So, Gil stumbled upon Robert's brother John trying to rape Jamie. They get into it; Gil takes Jamie home. John drives away in a big hurry and gets killed in a hit-and-run. Twenty years later his younger brother gets revenge. Is that what I'm hearing?"

Nick looked over at Catherine. "Yep."

"Just making sure. She stood up and walked around to the front of the desk. "Nick, you've done a lot. Go home and take some time off, you haven't slept since...yesterday?"

Nick frowned and stood. "I'd rather stay here. I can sleep in Gil's office, just in case."

Catherine let out a breath and shrugged. "Okay, but...don't do anything else. What did you find out about the other contents of the envelope?"

Nick smiled a little. "You don't need to know about it, yet. I need to talk to Griss first before I say anything. It's nothing important to the case."


7777777777


Gil dropped the hot lighter to the floor and dumped some of the ice cold water over the nail and waited a few minutes before he pulled on it. The nail finally came out after several seconds of him pulling on it and moving it around the hole. Both of the bottom nails were now on the floor. Two more to go.

He couldn't remember much of anything, except for Robert. That, he remembered, but why was escaping him as he worked on getting nails out of a window. Memories were escaping him again because he hadn't slept in days. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

His hands were past shaking. They were a constant movement. His shirt was soaked with sweat and he was on fire. The last time he had anything close to the flu was over two years ago when he and the rest of the team went out to celebrate Warrick's after wedding party and he had drank way too much.

This wasn't a hangover, this was withdrawal and his skin was killing him it was itching all over. His control was growing thinner by each passing second. Nausea was a constant ache in his stomach. A ripple of blinding pain shot through him in an instant. He doubled over and screamed into the wooden floor until the pain subsided.

He tried to focus on something to block out the world and the pain, but all he could come up with were Pink Floyd lyrics. "Daddy's flown across the ocean, leaving just a memory. Snapshot in the family album, daddy what else did you leave for me? Daddy, what did you leave behind for me?! All in all it was just a brick in the wall. All in all it was all just bricks in the wall."

A battle was raging in his head. One of biblical proportions. Addiction brought the strongest of men to their knees. He didn't remember where the quote came from or if he just made it up. All he really knew was that he was losing it. No amount of control could stop him from losing it. His id, ego, and superego were all raging war in his mind.

He knew it got really bad when they took human form and was arguing in front of him. His id had taken on the form of Robert.

"Come on, Gil. You know you want it. Take the pills. Ease the pain. 'You shout and no one seems to hear!' No one can hear you Gilly boy. No one cares. Take the pills!"

"No," his ego yelled from beside Robert. It was Nick. "He doesn't need them. He's stronger than this. Gil," Nick kneeled down in front of him. "Be strong. Fight this! Fight Robert! Get up, get the rest of them damn nails out of the window, and get the hell out!"

"Hey, who gave you superiority," the id of Robert shouted and pulled Nick up onto his feet. "I'm in charge here!"

They continued to yell at each other at the top of there lungs. Gil shook his head on the cold wooden floor and looked over at the bed. His superego was sitting there, holding the three pills in her hand. Her radiant blue eyes stared at Nick and Robert arguing, she frowned at them then looked over at him.

Gil couldn't breathe as his mother smiled at him. She looked so young, and beautiful.

She sat the pills down then raised her hands and signed 'Do what you feel to be right, Gil. Listen to the one you love, and everything will turn out okay. Love you.' And with that she was gone.

Gil felt the tears before he had realized they were there and that he was crying silently. His mother, the one who gave him his sense of right and wrong, moral conscious and strong will was gone. She was gone and never coming back. His throat constricted and he closed his eyes tight against the tears.

"Mother should I build the wall?" He coughed out a sob and opened his eyes to the empty bed. "Mother should I run for president? Mother should I trust the government? Mother will they put me in the firing line? Is it just a waste of time?"

He looked over and his eyes fell upon Nick and Robert standing before him. Nick gave him a bright smile then faded away. Robert was fuming with rage and pushed the wall before he walked through it and out of reality.

It took all of his energy to pull himself up from the floor by using the window ledge as leverage. The window felt cool as he rested his forehead against it as he caught his breath. He was going crazy. No one loved crazy people, did they? He couldn't remember anyone truly loving him except for his mother and father. But his dad died when he was young, now, his mother was gone too. He never went to the funeral. Never got to watch his aunts and uncles cry and laugh at the same time at the memory of her. Never got to be pallbearer and listen to his old Catholic teacher, Father, and Priest read from the book he didn't believe in. What a waste.

"Mother do you think he's good enough for me? Mother do you think he's dangerous to me? Mother will he tear your little boy apart? Mother will he break my heart?"

He pushed himself off of the window and sat down on the bed. There was no pillow on the bed but he settled on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He was a waste.

"Mother, did it need to be so high?"


7777777777


"Hey Bobby." Catherine walked into the ballistics lab. "What do you got on the bullet that killed Trooper Doyle?"

Bobby smiled and pointed to the microscope. "See for yourself."

Catherine looked into the scope and smiled. "Perfect match...to what?"

"The bullets recovered from the murder case. The same person who shot Carter Matthews and John Latham was the same person who shot Robert Doyle. 9 millimeter, standard cop issue."

Catherine straightened up. "He's using Grissom's gun."

"Wasn't he supposed to have turned that in?"

Catherine looked over at him. "Yeah, but he never did." She left the lab room and ran into Warrick outside the A/V lab. "Hey, what did you find out?"

"Nothing. The car turned onto Baker Street and from there, disappeared. My guess is that he headed for the desert. Middle of 'Nowhere Man'. I'm going to catch up with Greg and Kevin and help them sort through Doyle's information."

"I talked with his widow. She said that he used to take off and go out to Lake Tahoe. He had a cabin out there."

Warrick nodded as he stopped outside the room Greg and Kevin were in. "I'll look into it."

"I'm going to have Brass call up there to the parks department. Maybe they saw something. How's Nick?"

"The last I saw he was asleep in Grissom's office."

She smiled at him. "About time, I was starting to really worry."

Warrick huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, like we're all not doing that."

Catherine left Warrick to help out the others as she made her way to the parking lot. She decided to stop and see for herself how Nick was doing. She opened the door to Grissom's office and found Nick sitting up and staring at the floor. When he heard the door, he looked up.

"Can't sleep?"

"I just, keep seeing Grissom in that car." Nick shifted in the seat and leaned back. "Got anything?"

She leaned against the doorway. "Lake Tahoe is a big possibility. I'm heading over to LVPD now. Brass has some things for me to look over. Try to rest, Nicky. We'll get you when we have something."

Nick nodded and watched as Catherine closed the door.


7777777777


The bed shook as Gil shook. He hugged his midsection for dear life as he shivered. Sweat was starting to coat the bed he was on. He felt cold, but he burned at the same time. "It was just a mistake I didn't mean to let them take away my soul. Am I too old, is it too late?"

At this rate, he would recite the entire album 'The Wall' before daylight. His fist balled into fist at his sides as he tried to fight the pain and need that was slowly killing him, or he thought was killing him.

The light flickered on and he jerked his head to the direction of the door. Robert was standing just inside the doorway with a tray in his hands. On the tray was a glass of water and a bowl. The content in the bowl was probably soup. Gil didn't know if Robert was real or another dilution.

Robert sat the tray down on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulled out the pill bottle from the sweater he was wearing and undid the lid. "You look, and smell like shit, Gil. You need a bath." That was when he looked up and noticed the plastic off the window. "Trying to get out I see." He picked the plastic up and put it back over the window; he never noticed the nails missing. "Naughty boy, Gil. I'm going to have to punish you for that. Do you remember my punishments?"

Gil barely heard what Robert had even said. His head was pounding too loud and his focus was slipping. He refused to even answer Robert. All of his attention was on his body and mind. Nothing was right with him. He needed those pills, but he needed to survive more. The room went dark as he nodded off.

A sharp sting quickly brought him back. The right side of his face stung. Robert was standing over him with his hand raised.

"Wake up!"

Gil grumbled and went to turn away, but a strong hand pulled him back.

"Damn it, Gil! You didn't shallow those pills. Fuckin' asshole." Robert let go and reached to get the other pills. "Open up. Open, Gil!"

Gil dug his heel into the bed and pushed himself back until he hit the wall. He sat up and shook his head.

Robert grabbed him by the neck and held tight. "I said, open. You don't want me to get angry, Gil."

Gil wanted to laugh at that but he couldn't get anything out. Robert was really starting to piss him off. His fingers dug into Robert's hand as he tried to pull it away. Something inside of him broke, he felt it coming on. Pure rage that was built up from years of never letting it out finally broke through the abyss that was holding it back.

In a split second he caught Robert off guard as he pushed himself away from the wall in such a force Robert fell backwards and Gil landed on top of him. Robert lost his grip on his neck and never got it back as Gil held his arms down with his left hand and used his right to punch him over and over again.

Robert was completely in shock until the first blow to his face woke him up. Gil didn't relent, even as Robert twisted under him trying to knock him off, but Robert didn't care as he let Gil go to town on his face and body. After about the tenth punch Robert had enough and brought his knee up hard.

A surge of blinding pain went straight up from Gil's balls to his throat. He doubled over in pain and couldn't breathe. Robert pushed him over and then rolled away, spitting out blood as he got up on his hands and knees.

Gil lay in a fetal position, holding himself between his legs and trying to breathe. After several minutes he finally grunted out, "Fuck," as he got his breath back. He had never experienced that before, and he wished he never had. Being kneed in the balls was about as effective as being hit with Pepper Spray in the eyes. Men go down, hard and fast.

"You know what," Robert said as he fully stood. "I'm going to let you suffer without the pills. You hit harder when you're going through withdrawal." He picked up the pills and put them back in the bottle then went to the door. "I'll be back in five minutes to let you take a bath. Then," Robert nodded to himself. "The fun really begins."


7777777777


Greg sat up straight in his seat. Kevin almost jumped at the sudden movement. Warrick just glanced over from his stack of sheets.

"What is it, Greg," Warrick asked.

"He has a cabin at Lake Tahoe, right? The electricity and water were both turned on there three months ago, but he was dead by then."

Warrick pulled out his cell phone and called Catherine. "Hey, where are you?"

"LVPD," Catherine said on the other line.

"Greg found something. The electricity and water were turned on at Doyle's cabin after he was killed."

"Hang on, Rick. What Brass?"

Warrick listened to the muffled conversation before Catherine's voice was clear again.

"Park Ranger just called in. Pulled over a car earlier today, License number is a match; was Grissom's. He stopped it five miles from Doyle's cabin."

Warrick and the rest of the team were already out of their seats and headed for the locker room. He spotted Sara in the break room and waved at her to follow. "Alright Cath. We're headed out now. Meet us at the Chatterbox right before the I-6 exit. Then we'll go from there."

The door to Grissom's office was slightly open. Warrick pushed it the rest of the way and looked in. Nick wasn't there. He hit redial before the door even closed shut.

"Willows."

"Cath, Nick's gone. The chopper leaves in twenty minutes; we can't afford to have to look for Nick."

"We won't have to. Nick knew about Lake Tahoe. My guess is that he's already on his way."

***

Gil stared at the wall of the bathroom and tried to ignore the sting of the hot water on his sensitive body. After a few minutes and the sting calmed down, he leaned back with a heavy sigh. He ignored the fact that Robert was in the room with him. It wasn't like he had never seen him naked before. The hot water also seemed to help ease his trembling body and aching head.

Robert knelt in front of the tub and grabbed the liquid soap and poured some on the washcloth. Gil didn't really mind Robert cleaning him off. He was actually careful around the bruises.

Gil tried not too, but he was starting to drift off. His head hit the back of the tub causing a numbing ache to surface.

"Careful, Gil. You can't fall asleep yet. We have things to do."

Gil looked over at Robert. His face was bruised and blood was still seeping from the cut in his lip and from his nose. Gil just stared at him.

"I'm supposed to be your victim, remember."

Gil blinked and sat back against the cold tub. Right, he was supposed to be the murderer. Those people were killed by him...His team. He sat up fast causing the water to splash over the edges. "My team...?"

Robert smiled over his shoulder as he went to get a towel. "I changed my mind. I want them to see you suffer."

Gil breathed out. Thank God.

Robert came back over with a towel. "Ready to start the show?"

Gil looked at the towel in confusion. "I need to wash my hair."

Robert dropped his hands. "We need to get this goin'."

Gil nodded. "We will. Just, let me get cleaned up. I can do it myself."

Robert frowned. He thought for a moment. "Fine. I need to get things ready anyway. There are clean clothes for you on the bed. Be out in five minutes, or else."

Gil grabbed the tiny sample size shampoo bottle and squeezed some in his hands. Robert stared at him for a second then left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Gil quickly washed the soap off his hands and got out of the water. After he checked the cabinet above the sink, he wrapped the towel around his waist then cracked the door open. Robert was living room with his back toward the hallway. Gil quietly stepped out of the bathroom and ducked into the bedroom right across from it. The clothes were his, pair of socks, boxers, blue jeans, and an old faded black button up. He dressed quickly then lifted up the side of the mattress and slipped his lighter and pack of cigarettes' into his pocket.

Robert was moving around the living room, going in and out of the kitchen. Gil ducked back into the bathroom and shut the door quietly. He grabbed two bottles out of the cabinet above the sink and picked up the sample size shampoo bottle and rinsed it out.


7777777777


Nick checked his watch. He had to be at least an hour ahead of the team. He hoped that they even figured out that Lake Tahoe was probably where Gil was being held at, but he had a feeling he was. That was the only reason he left and got a helicopter to take him out there. He called a head for a Park Ranger to meet him at the nearest airfield to take him to the cabin that was previously owned by Trooper Robert Doyle.

He looked at his watch again. They were about five minutes out. Nick looked up and stared out the window at the desert fading into the background.


7777777777


Warrick held the door open for Catherine as he climbed aboard the helicopter. Only half of them could go. Jim sat in the front with the pilot as Warrick and Catherine took the back. Greg, Sara, Kevin, and Detective Vartan stood off to the side and watched the chopper take off.

"Well," Greg looked over at the rest. "Who's up for going back to the lab to worry about these guys while drinking down flat coffee and eating take out?"

They all turned to Greg and gave him a look.

"Fine, more for me."


7777777777


Gil wanted to throw up and the cigarette he was smoking wasn't making things better.

The cabin swirled around him, making him stumble as he sat down on the blood stain floor. Even the sight of the blood on the floor was making his stomach turn. Robert's laugh was like from The Dark Side of The Moon, the one during "Brain Damage". He wanted to laugh at it, but it was laced with pure evil. He hastily took another two drags off the cigarette.

Robert had tied his hands together in front of him. How he did that, Gil wasn't sure about. Then he started to talk.

The words were nothing but static. "What?" He heard himself shout over the static.

Robert appeared in front of him. Gil flinched back and hit the wall behind him. Robert just laughed. "Gil, you're a fuckin' trip."

Gil stared up at him, confused. "I'm a journey?"

That just made Robert laugh more. "Hit me."

Gil stood up on weak knees and walked by Robert.

Robert grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. "You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that? I don't see what that Boy Scout Nick Stokes sees in you."

Gil shook the hand off his shoulder but almost fell over from the movement. The room around him faded into nothing but blackness. The only thing he could see was Robert. "I don't deserve him." He walked into the kitchen and sat down hard in the chair. He was trembling even harder and the hallucinations weren't helping. The cigarette was just a crutch for what he really needed, but he wasn't going to think about it.

Robert was taken back by Gil's comment. He was trying to piss him off, and all Gil did was confirm his hurtful allegations. "You're a disappointment, Gil."

Gil nodded. He finished his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on the table. It took all his control to not tip the ashtray over since his hands were shaking. To stop his hands from shaking he put them in his pants pockets and stare at the table.

Robert was still talking to him, but he wasn't hearing anything. His mind was occupied on the items in his pockets. He had to try to save himself, because his team wasn't looking for him...were they? No, he sighed, why would they? Some of Robert's words filtered through to his conscious.

"...just a disappointment. To bad your mom can't see how much of a fuck up you are."

Gil snapped his head up at that. How did Robert know about his mom? He stared at Robert in confusion for a moment. "Repeat that."

Robert blinked back at the sudden tone. It was stable, almost cold. "I said, to bad your mom can't see how much of a fuck up you are."

"Do you know what chemical compound, H2O2 and mixture C2H5OH are?"

Robert sat down at the chair across from Gil. "What?"

"Hydrogen peroxide and rubbing alcohol. If you swallow hydrogen peroxide, it causes decomposition in the stomach and releases large quantities of gas that will lead to internal bleeding." He watched Robert eyes wide at that and he went to speak but Gil cut him off. "It's okay, if I wanted you to die from internal bleeding, I would just beat you to death, right Robert?"

Robert just stared at him. Then, it happened in a moment. One of Gil's hands came up with a small bottle the other held his lighter. Robert was confused until Gil squeezed the bottle out onto him coating the side of his face, neck and shirt, then the lighter flicked open. Robert went to stand up but pushed the chair back too hard and fell over. The lighter landed on him then a rage of flames set him on fire.

Robert yelled and cursed as he tried to take his shirt off and franticly tried to put the flames out by hitting himself, his partly tied hands were now loose. At one point he tried to roll around on the floor but Gil stopped him by kicking him in the balls. Robert's yelling was now a strained gargle. Gil got a glass of water and after he took several sips, poured the rest of Robert.

Gil looked down and examined the damage. Robert had to have at least third degree burns on the side of his face, neck, and the shirt was melted into some of his skin on his chest. The smell of burnt flesh and skin filled the small cabin.

He knew he was probably going too far. Burning Robert like that, but he didn't much care. Robert had literally tortured him for months, drugged him, raped him, tried to run over Nick, and was trying to frame him for murder. Fuck Robert.

Robert was still squirming on the floor gasping for air and obviously in a lot of pain. Gil threw the rope that was used to tie Robert's hands together into the trash then grabbed his lighter off of Robert. It was burned too, but it still worked.


7777777777


Nick jumped out of the helicopter and rushed to the awaiting truck. A Ranger and the sheriff from the town Incline Village greeted him once he was inside and buckled in.

"CSI Nick Stokes, this is Sheriff Bill Keller and Ranger Mac Thompson." Ranger Hurst, whom Nick talked to on the way to Lake Tahoe, introduced them.

"Thank you gentlemen for doing this," Nick said from the back.

"Your welcome, but anything we can do to help, we'll do." Sheriff Keller said from the front passenger seat. "In case you don't already know, the roads are pretty bad right now. Storm hit us early this morning, knocking power out and making small roads impossible to travel on. Where they're at it'd take a while to get up there, but with our snow vehicles we can make it."

"I'm hoping so." Nick flipped on his cell phone, but there was no reception.

"We got another call from a Vegas CSI, uh...Catherine Willows. She said to tell you they're on their way."

Nick smiled at that. "Good."


7777777777


When Gil picked up the phone to call the police, the line was dead. He picked up his gun and grabbed Robert's jacket off the hanger and put it on before he went outside. It snowed overnight and the snow piled over the small porch. It still amazed him how it could snow like this, but it was nearly December, wasn't it? August had already came and went, he turned fifty already. October would have been his mom's birthday. So, it had to be the end of November or early December.

The car was parked in the small garage away from the cabin. The keys were still in the ignition of his car. He went to start it but nothing happened. After trying five times he slammed the car door and opened the hood. The battery was missing.

The hood slammed close. He stared up at the cabin debating on what to do. They were on the north part of the mountain, just in Nevada. The nearest town was probably Incline Village. He remembered passing Dorcey Drive, then they got off the main street and took a long trail to here.

Gil pulled out the map from the glove compartment of the car. From Dorcey Drive to the town would be three miles, add about two more miles. He would need to walk five miles, in the snow, to get to town. Driving would be no contest, ten to fifteen minutes, but walking would take him an hour and a half and that was if he was lucky.

Robert was now unconscious on the floor as he walked in the cabin; the pain was probably too much to deal with awake. The idea of staying in the cabin was less than appealing to Gil as the song "Stuck in the Middle with You" by Stealer Wheel came to mind. He quickly found the pill bottle, but instead of swallowing any of the pills he put it in his pocket and downed a glass of water. The temptation to stick his head under the water was also ignored with the thought that he didn't want to freeze to death outside.

He packed a bag with heavy clothes, a jacket, and a blanket he found in the closet. Lucky for him Robert had kept a lot of things in the cabin, like a thermos and coffee. Four warm water bottles also went into his bag along with a flashlight. He didn't know if he would be walking in the dark, but he took it just in case. Lastly, he tied Robert up to the bathroom sink and took the watch off his wrist. It was a quarter to five. Damn, time flew out here. Good thing he did pack the flashlight. Sunlight was gone by at least six o'clock in the winter time. He wrote a note, just in case someone was looking for him and found the cabin, and left it on the kitchen counter.

The door shut behind him as he hurried out of the cabin.


7777777777


A noise on the porch caught Robert's attention as he tried to free himself from the sink. He was startled when he heard the front door bust.

Nick, with a group of Rangers and the Sheriff, stormed through the door with guns drawn and ready to shoot. The living room was empty, but blood covered just about every inch. Nick quickly ran down the hallway checking the bedroom first before the bathroom.

At the sight of Robert tied to the sink, Nick felt both enraged and relieved. "Where is he?"

Robert shook his head.

Nick stepped into the bathroom and grabbed Robert's throat. He realized in surprise and disgust that Robert was burned, so he quickly took his hand away. Robert let out a strangled scream and blacked out again.

Ranger Hurst came up to him. "We found a note in the kitchen. He's on his way to Incline Village."

Nick looked at the man, confused. "How?"

"He's walking."

Nick rushed past him while at the same time barking orders. "Get Robert into custody, he needs first aid too. You can use the helicopter to get him out of here. I need one of you to get in your vehicles and back track to the main road then toward the town. And I need one of you to walk with me through the forest."

"Stokes," Sheriff Keller spoke up from the porch. "I got foot prints headed into the forest that way." He pointed off toward mountain. "I'll go with you."

Nick nodded. "Gil probably figured the fastest way to the main road would be a straight line. Save him some time. Come on. We only have half an hour until night fall, so take a flashlight."


7777777777


Nick and Sheriff Keller followed the footprints as fast as they could, but snow started to come down ten minutes into their walk. They had a backpack with enough necessary supplies just in case something was to happen or they got stuck out in the middle of the forest. From their map, it looked like Gil was bypassing the roads and going in a straight line to the town, which would save on time, but was more dangerous because of the decrees in temperature, snow, and wild animals.

It got dark faster than they thought. They walked in silence for most of the time with flashlights following barely visible footprints, until the Sheriff spoke up.

"Is Dr. Grissom still a suspect," Sheriff Keller asked.

Nick shook his head. "No, and he never should have been. Robert Davis was framing him, but now we got him in custody. I'm sure he'll confess. Most serial's do, can't stand not being in the spotlight."

"But, Grissom had burned that man."

Nick stopped and turned to face the Sheriff. "Gil Grissom is no more a killer than I am. If he did do that to Robert was to protect himself and to escape. Grissom is the most nonviolent man that I have ever met and he has saved my life twice. Understood."

Sheriff Keller nodded. "Sorry, I was just making sure my men didn't take into custody the victim."

"Now you know." Nick started to walk again when something caught his eyes. It was a fire not even big enough to warm dog. "There he is."

Nick walked as quietly as he could so not to freak Gil out and have him run before they even got close enough to verify it was even him, but who else could it be. As he got closer he could make out Gil's features in the growing flames. He wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a fallen branch.

Gil snapped to attention and raised his gun.

"Shit," Nick whispered. "Gil," he said loud enough to be heard but not to scare.

Gil frown in confusion, but didn't lower the gun.

Nick raised his hands as he made his way over to the small clearing. Gil's confusion didn't ease as Nick finally stepped into the glow of the fire. In fact, Gil looked even more confused. Sheriff Keller became visible just to the right of Nick and Gil finally put the gun away.

Nick let out a breath and sat down next to Gil. "Why did you stop?"

Gil frowned and looked over at the Sheriff as he sat down across the fire from him. "I...I had a headache."

Nick frowned and looked at the fire. "This isn't helping."

"Better than freezing." Gil kept eyeing the Sheriff.

Nick picked up on it. "Its okay, Gil. You can trust him. He helped me find you."

Gil looked over at him. "About that...?"

Nick smiled. "We found out about Trooper Doyle, which led us to the cabin."

"What about Robert? Nick I didn't--"

"I know you didn't. I found out who Robert was from a picture I found and your old high school yearbook. We also found motive besides the obvious from before, about his brother." Nick frowned and looked guilty. "I'm sorry, Gil, but I found out about something else. It wasn't relevant to the case so the others don't know about it, yet."

Gil stared at him in confusion until an answer dawned on him. "Where did you find Robert's picture?"

Nick looked at the fire again. "In the white envelope. In the box marked '65."

Gil closed his eyes and turned his head toward the fire. When he opened them again, he didn't look at Nick. Instead, he got up and starting walking. "Come on. I want to get home."



About ten minutes from the main road, Gil doubled over in pain and started shaking uncontrollably.

"Gil!" Nick ran up beside him and tried to pick him up, but Gil wasn't having any of it.

"Can't...walk," Gil got out between clenched teeth. "Hurt."

"What's going on," Sheriff Keller asked."

Nick bent down ready to lift Gil up. "He's going through withdrawal."

Gil reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the bottle with trembling hands.

Nick quickly took it away. "No," he said as he put the bottle in his pocket. "You don't need them."

Sheriff Keller walked over to them. "You mean he's an addict?"

"No, he's not." Nick stared up at the Sheriff then tried to help Gil up. "When was the last time you took them?"

Gil glared over at him through half closed eyelids. The intense pain was obvious in his face. He swallowed hard. "I haven't."

Nick gave him a smile. "Good. Hopefully you'll kick the habit soon." He looked over at the sheriff. "Aren't you going to help me," he practically yelled.

Sheriff Keller bent down and wrapped his arm around the left side of Gil. "Once we get to the street and I know where we're at, I'll call in and get the truck up here."



Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the main road. Gil was mumbling quotes and lyrics into Nick's ear the whole time, but Nick didn't mind. Whatever kept Gil from completely losing it was fine with him. The Sheriff let Gil go which caused Gil to wrap his other arm around Nick to keep from falling over. Nick was shocked for a moment at the movement then he relaxed into it and held Gil harder. Whatever he needed.

In no time a Ranger's vehicle was pulling up to the side of the road. "Just caught me coming this way. Hop in."

Nick helped Gil into the truck and buckled in. The Sheriff took the front seat. They were on there way to the town when Gil opened his eyes and looked over at Nick.

"Sorry."

Nick frowned over at him. "For what?"

Gil closed his eyes against the rush of pain before he said, "Believing Robert."

Nick watched as Gil drifted off to sleep then stared out the window. He wondered just what exactly Gil had believed.

***

Gil was awakened by movement. He blinked his eyes open to see Nick smiling down at him. Not the cabin or Robert, but Nick. He breathed out and rubbed his eyes, it was time to get out of the truck. Nick helped him even though he didn't need it, but he was too tired to be stubborn.

It was a short walk to the inside of the police station. He absently wondered why they didn't take him to the hospital. Once he walked in and saw the relieved smiles and faces of the night shift, he stopped wondering.

Catherine was the first to hug him. Once she pulled away he tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't ever do that again."

Gil smirked. "It's not on my list of things to do."

Jim shook his hand and patted him on the back, same with Warrick. They started talking to him about Robert and what was going on with him and the cabin, but he wasn't paying much attention. He was dead on his feet, in more ways than one. Nick must have picked up on it because he stepped in.

"Hey," Nick said as kindly as he could to the two excited men. "Gil was asleep in the truck and he probably needs some more sleep."

Jim nodded and looked over at him. "I thought you looked more off than usual. Get some sleep, pal. We'll talk later."

Gil numbly nodded and smiled at both Jim and Warrick as he shuffled by them and back into a room the Sheriff let him use. A cot awaited him in the small office. As soon his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

Nick stood guard at the door until he was satisfied then shut the door. The others were talking with each other and the Sheriff. He walked up to the group but stood away from them so he could keep an eye on the door. The thought of him being overprotected was going around his head, but he had good reason. When he turned back to the group they were all looking at him. The team had a knowing smile and look, but the Sheriff seemed oddly confused.

Nick just smiled at them all. "Just making sure he's okay. He's been through hell."

Catherine grabbed his arm and held it. "He's safe now and Robert is in custody in Vegas. As soon as Grissom gets up, you two and Brass can head back. Warrick and I have to stay and sort through evidence from the cabin."

Nick half paid attention to the conversations as went from serious discussions about the case to bad cop humor. The light in the small office never came on for the whole five hours he was stuck in Incline Village, Nevada. And the door didn't open until Nick got back with food from the only open diner at one in the morning.

Gil sat down across from Nick at the desk he was using as a table. Even with the five hours of sleep, Gil still looked tired and worn out. It also could be because he hasn't shaven in months.

"I was talking with Catherine and Jim," Nick started after he gave Gil a cup of coffee. "And we think that you should..." he stopped and tried to think of a good way to voice their opinion. "...That you need so professional advise and help with what's going on."

Gil looked up from his cup and stared at Nick. "You mean you want me to go to rehab?"

Nick frowned. "We can't make you, Gil. It's voluntary. We wanted to do it before, but you were in such bad shape we knew you would have just checked yourself out."

Gil sat in silence as he thought about that. Every so often he would eat some of the soup, checkers, and sandwich Nick had gotten for him.

The Deputy Sheriff came in the door and smiled at both men. "The helicopter is here to take you guys home. We'll leave as soon as you guys load up."

Gil wrapped his food up and put it in the bag. "Give me five minutes," he said as he got up and went to the bathroom.

Nick grabbed the food and went out to the truck. No more than five minutes later Gil came up and got in. Before they knew it they were on their way to the airfield. Gil didn't talk the whole time. Nick tried to make conversation but Gil kept staring out the window with his hands trapped between his legs. Nick noticed them shaking while they ate, but didn't say anything. Now, Gil's leg was bouncing on the floor board but it was unnoticed to him. Gil was lost in his own world, like always.

Nick sighed and finally sat back and jus enjoyed the ride to the helicopter that would take them home.


7777777777


Gil still wasn't allowed back at the lab. He could go there and say hi if he wanted, sit at his desk, and look at old cases, but he couldn't work on new cases until he went through four weeks of rehab and talking with Philip at least twice a week. Ecklie handed him the papers that he needed to sign. His whole life was going to end with the signing of his name.

His first day back in Vegas was spent at the LVPD or at the lab; a day and he already wanted to leave. Jim took his testimony nearly four hours ago in his office. Two hours had been spent in his office with everyone coming in there to say hi and welcome him back, even though he wasn't officially back at work.

The case had been closed. All of the evidence was collected. Robert had confessed and told his whole story, from the beginning because they couldn't get him to stop talking. His car was brought back to his townhouse with was released back into his possession. But nothing felt right.

After he signed five out of the ten dotted lines he was supposed to sign, he handed the papers back to Ecklie and stood up. His gun and badge were handed in next.

Ecklie stared at them before he looked up at him. "Gil, I don't need your gun and badge. You're no long a suspect."

Gil nodded. "I know."

Ecklie was stared at him before he looked over what Gil had signed. "You didn't sign the ones saying that you'll go to rehab here and talk to Philip." He looked up at Gil. "What's going on?"

Gil stayed standing. "I have some family issues I have to take care of." He sighed and shook his head. "After a month, if you don't hear from me, expect my resignation."

Ecklie sighed to himself and finally nodded. "I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but do what you need to do to get better."

Gil was a little surprised at the AD, but he had noticed some changes in Ecklie for a while. He turned and left the office. It was time he went home.

Nick was waiting out in the hallway when Gil stepped out of the office. He made his way over to Gil. "Need a lift?"

Gil shrugged and they started walking to the parking lot. Nick was surprisingly not trying to have small talk. Before long they were in Nick's truck and on there way to the townhouse. Once there, Gil let Nick into the house and followed him into the living room.

Gil was actually amazed that it was clean. Oh well. He quickly made coffee as Nick poked around the house.

"He, uh, I tried to clean up what I could. Your clothes are washed, but that was the extent of my cleaning. Catherine did a lot of the downstairs. You know, mopping and dusting."

Gil glanced over at him. He wanted tell Nick it was a waste of time, but decided not to. Nick actually looked...good. Speaking of which. "I'm going to take a shower then and actually trim this." He pointed to the beard. "Probably cut me hair too. You can either stay or leave, it's up to you." He was walking up the stairs as he said that and shut the door before Nick even answered.



It was almost an hour later until Gil appeared back downstairs. Nick looked up and couldn't hide his smile as he saw Gil. His beard was well trimmed and his hair was shorter. The clothes were almost the same, except he was wearing black slacks with the black shirt that were loose on him. The bags were still under his eyes and he was even paler then the last time he had seen him, but he looked more awake and alert.

Gil immediately went to the kitchen and got a cup of coffee. Nick had heated up some food and Gil started picking at it, but he really wasn't that hungry. The thought of food was actually starting to make him feel sick. He downed the first cup of coffee then got another one he would sip on. He dug in his drawers until he found a pack of cigarettes and pulled the lighter out of his pocket.

The Ladybug picture on the Zippo was completely burnt beyond recognition, but it still flickered on and lit his cigarette. Nick was sitting in the chair so Gil took the sofa.

"Not hungry," Nick asked as he drank his coffee.

Gil slightly shook his head and leaned back against the sofa. It felt good to be back in his house. It was safe and comfortable, familiar from the colors to the smells. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked over at Nick like he just said something. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

Nick was confused for a moment then shook his head. "No."

Gil closed his eyes again and breathed out smoke. That was the last thing he needed. Lady Heather was right; his greatest fear was being known. Maybe that was the reason he wanted to leave so badly.

Nick made a noise with a throat then said, "Gil?"

"Yeah," Gil said without opening his eyes.

"It's okay, you know. I understand and it's not anything to be ashamed of...It actually explains a lot."

Gil did open his eyes at that and looked over at Nick. "I know, but it...I don't want to talk about it."

Nick sighed and looked at the coffee table. "I'm just saying that I'm here if you do ever want to talk about it. Not just that, but with all that has happened..." he trailed off as Gil stood with his coffee cup, walked over to the radio and turned it on before he went out onto the patio.

Nick wanted to follow, but didn't. Gil would just back away further and never talk about anything beyond cases with him again. An hour later Nick finally left as the first CD changed and Gil stayed out on the patio.


7777777777


Catherine, Warrick and Jim cornered him in the break room the next day. He was just getting coffee before shift started when he turned to see the group staring at him. "What?"

Catherine was the first to talk. "Nick, what's going on with Grissom?"

Nick leaned back against the counter. Catherine was always blunt and to the point. "How would I know?"

Warrick huffed out a laugh from the chair he as sitting in. "You've never been a good liar. Catherine already knows that you know something from that envelope you went through."

Nick sighed out loud. "That's because she already went through it. You know what's goin' on."

Catherine crossed her arms. "I know the term, not the facts. Help me out."

Nick took a long drink of the coffee, thinking things over. "You know the term look it up. Asperger's syndrome isn't that hard to goggle." He pushed himself off the counter and left the break room.


7777777777


Gil stared at his office from just inside the doorway. His left hand was still on the door handle, his right held a letter. His eyes traveled over the various books, diplomas, insects, butterflies, and other jars filled with his beloved things. The African Red Baboon tarantula tried to crawl up the glass cage it was in.

The office looked the same, but it felt different. A deep sigh escaped him as he made his way to the desk and sat the letter down. When he turned around again, Nick was in the doorway.

Nick gave him a weak smile. "Shift's over and I saw you come in. The team is going out for breakfast, want to come?"

Gil stood thinking about it then nodded. "Sure. I need some coffee."

Nick smiled. "Cool. You can follow me. Greg found a really good Tuscan place over by his new apartment."

Gil closed the office door behind him and started walking along side Nick.

"Aren't you going to lock it," Nick asked.

Gil shook his head. "No reason to."


7777777777


Nick was laughing beside him over a story Greg was telling. Gil didn't see the humor in it but he smirked at the way Nick was laughing. His arm relaxed behind Nick and he listened to the story unfold while he took glances at everyone around him.

"So," Greg went on. "My skateboard flew up and smacked me right in the face. Blood was coming out of my nose and mouth, but what was worse, the girls were laughing and the guys were pointing calling me names. I showed them by showing up the next year and winning first place."

Nick was still laughing. "That's why I never boarded. I have friends who had broken arms, legs, fingers, everything from skateboarding."

"And it proves he's been stubborn since he was sixteen," Sara said and nudged Greg in the side.

"Hey," Greg practically yelled. "I've been stubborn since I was six."

Gil smirked and looked down at his plate. All the fruit was gone and half the beard, but he didn't touch his sandwich. He grabbed his third cup of coffee and started sipping it.

Jim laughed and shook his head while pulling out his wallet. "You crazy kids are too much for this old man." He threw a few dollars down on the table. "I'm going home. You guys have a good day, huh. Don't keep that old man up too long." He pointed at Gil and waved at everyone else and left.

Nick patted his leg which caused him to stiffen a little. "You're not old. Just a pro."

"Yeah," Greg said. "Not in your prime."

Gil glared over at Greg then looked over at Nick. "I'm ancient, according to him."

Nick dropped his jaw and looked over at Greg. "You called Griss ancient?"

Warrick threw up his hands. "I'm out of this."

Catherine just stared over at the younger man. "What does that make me?"

Greg looked around the table. "I never called Griss ancient. I said the money we found in Lois O'Neill's floorboards old. It was from the Eisenhower years, 1965."

Nick shook his head. "That's not ancient."

"It is to me." Greg was serious and took a bit out of his food. "Seriously, anything before Bon Jovi, The Clash, and U2, ancient."

Warrick turned to Greg. "You listen to U2?"

"The Joshua Tree," Greg said and smirked. "The best album ever."

Gil looked over at Greg. "Do you know where they got the title The Joshua Tree from?"

Greg shook his head.

"The Hebrew name Joshua was first encountered as the name of Moses' successor as leader of the Israelites and when translated into Greek it becomes Jesus, which provided a specifically Christian context for the album and that images presented in the album. The images resonated with the songs theme that evoke an image of a man suffering a great loss or making a great sacrifice, and either calling on something greater for assistance, or simply drawing on catharsis to reconcile what has been lost. As for the tree itself, The Joshua Tree was named by Mormons who traveled through the region which later became known as Joshua Tree National Park. They named the tree Joshua because of its outstretched arms, which in the Old Testament, Joshua lead the Hebrews in their victory at Ai and hung their king on a tree just like that one until sunset."

Greg was so shocked he didn't know what to say. He finally found his words after a moment. "You like Irish rock bands?"

Gil motioned for Nick to move then he got up out of the booth. "I like good music, Greg." He added a few more dollars to the ones Jim through down. He stopped before leaving the table and looked at everyone before saying, "Take care guys." He left the restaurant quickly and got in his car and pulled out of the parking spot.


7777777777


Nick wanted to talk to Gil after he left the restaurant but Gil had taken off before he could get out the door. Nick picked up his cell phone and tried calling as he pulled out of the parking lot, but Gil wasn't answering his cell phone.

He debated about going over to his townhouse or not, but decided to as he headed for the interstate. The drive wasn't that bad and there were no hold ups, so Nick was very confused when he pulled into the driveway and found no car, or Gil.

On the drive home Nick had the feeling that Gil wouldn't be back to the townhouse at all. He tried every nearest storage facility but no one by his name rented one out. By the time he got home he felt sick from worry, not that Gil was in danger, but that he would never see him again.

That night at work his suspicions were confirmed as Catherine read the letter Gil had left in his office.


To my team,

There was nothing that any of you could have told to me that would have changed my mind. Las Vegas had been my home for twenty years and I never thought I would have to say goodbye like this. In my entire life I had never found a group of people whom I considered friends, true friends, until I came to here. Honestly, it surprised me yet scared me to the point I knew I had to distance myself from you so as not to get hurt. I've been wrong many times in my life, and I was wrong about that, because it does hurt. However, I'm not wrong about what I'm doing now. I know I have screwed up, and I need to see to it that it doesn't happen again. Nothing that has happened in the last few months is at fault for this. It's been coming for a long time now. By the time you read this I'll be on my way to California. Here, I will be able to breathe again. My intention is not to stay but it might come to that...

For those who might feel like they have to come after me, as Shakespeare said, "Come not between the dragon and his wrath".


Please keep each other safe. I have complete confidence and trust in all of you.

Gil.



Nick sat frozen in his chair at that last part. He knew something was battling in Gil, but that just put a seal on it. His chair screeched back as he stood up and left the room. No one stopped him.

He stormed into Ecklie's office and slammed the door. "I want time off."

Ecklie looked up at him. "Nick..."

Nick shook his head. "No, I have vacation days saved up. I want to use them."

"Is this about Grissom? Look Nick, we can't afford for you to leave right now--"

"Yes you can," Nick yelled. "You have Catherine, Warrick, Sara, and Greg. As well as Day and Swing Shift guys who would love overtime. If you don't give this to me I'll quit."

Ecklie stared up at Nick then he shook his head. "Fine, if you want to make career suicide, that's your decision."

Nick stood shocked for a moment. "I don't care. Gil's more important than any career." He stood up and walked out of the office.

To Nick's surprise the rest of the team was standing outside the office, even Sara. Nick swallowed hard. "I'm going after him."

***

Gil didn't realize how much he missed California until he saw the costal line for the Pacific. The moon hung high in the clear night sky, but he couldn't see the stars. He'd have to go to Venice Beach to do that. The road he was on wasn't headed to his home, but to Montecito, off the Santa Barbara exit. The exit he was looking for was easy to find, but the roads to his uncles weren't. After back tracking a few times he finally pulled up into his uncle's driveway.

It was almost nine in the evening, and Gil wasn't so sure if his aunt and uncle would even be up, but the lights were on. He really didn't want to go there, but he had no other way into his mother's house. He didn't have the key. They would ask questions that he didn't want to answer.

He stopped halfway up the walkway then turned around. He couldn't do this, he could find a hotel close to home and...

"Gilbert?"

The voice of his uncle stopped him in his tracks. His Uncle Eddie always used formal names from his days in the military, but no one could ever call him Edward so he went by Ed or Eddie. He turned and saw the former US Army Captain standing on the steps with a shotgun in his hands. He knew it wasn't loaded, never was, but he raised his hands anyway. "I surrender," he said with mock humor.

Eddie lowered the gun. "It is you."

Gil began walking back up to the house. "It's me."

Eddie studied him with the same intensity as he remembered his dad doing. That was also his stare, but more pronounced. "Well, get in here before someone else decides to shoot you."

"Ed, what's going on..." his Aunt Mary trailed off as she saw him. "Gil," she said in a shaky voice.

Once he got on the porch she hugged him so hard he thought he was going to die of strangulation. As he hugged her back he'd realized that he was sick of being treated like a fragile puppy and if he was hugged one more time he'd have to hit someone. Good thing his uncle didn't hug. He just shook his hand and offered him to come inside.

Their house didn't change much from the last time he was there. And he couldn't even remember when that was, probably before Vegas. He hadn't been back a lot since the transfer, his mother usually traveled out there because she liked the shows, and Celin Deon. He sat on the couch because the recliner was always Eddie's.

"Would you like some coffee," Mary asked him.

The urge to ask why they were drinking coffee at nine at night was pushed back. "Yes, thank you. And some aspirin if you have it." He waited for the bombard of questions to begin, but at least they waited until he got his coffee.

"Why weren't you here," Eddie bluntly asked. "Too busy you couldn't come for own mother's funeral."

"Ed," Mary scolded.

Gil choked on the coffee. He looked over at Mary then Eddie. "I wanted to come..."

"But, what? No planes have crashed and you barely look dead. You have no sun or food in Vegas?"

Eddie was always the sarcastic one, but he was also the most brutally honest one as well. When those two mixed, you get Ed. Gil stood up from the couch and downed the coffee. His time there was over. When he came back into the living room he went up to Mary. "I need the key to my mother's house."

Mary nodded and went into a room down the hallway. Eddie just glared. Gil glared right back. He was startled when Mary came up to him.

She gave him the key and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll have the lawyer contact you tomorrow. There are some things that you'll need to discuss."

"I'm staying there, so, come over anytime," Gil turned around and left without saying goodbye.


8888888888


Gil walked into the house he hadn't lived in since he went to college and turned on the light. He stopped at the entryway and looked around. Beside from the new portraits and paintings on the wall, it was the same. The radio, television, couches, even his ant farm he had on the book self was still there.

His shoes went off at the door, his keys and everything in his pockets went on the table by the door. The familiarity of the house came back to him and he easily made his way to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. He wasn't going to sleep much tonight anyway.

As he made his way up the stairs he couldn't help but feel the sense of dread rising in him. The sudden urge to leave the house stopped him at the top of the stairs. His room was to the left. The room at the every end of the hallway was his mother's. The room in the middle on the left was the library/study and the one on the right was the studio. The solo room behind him at the other end was the bathroom. He ended up going to his left and opened the door to his old room.

After he got out of college he put everything back in the room that he did need in his new apartment. So, everything a college kid in the 70's wanted or needed was in his room. He smirked at the posters covering his walls. Pink Floyd, The Who, and Led Zeppelin mixed with ones of the Periodic Table and Einstein. The Beatles and The Doors posters' mixed with Emerson and Churchill. He momentary paused as he remember why he got the Churchill poster. It had something to do with Western Civilization History class and...Fredrick Paul James, the exchange student from Britain.

Old clothes hung in his closet. No wonder he didn't take hardly any with him, they looked...horrible. Except for the authentic Pink Floyd concert shirt he got at the '74 concert. He frowned, now this stuff was considered vintage and ancient. The closet door slammed shut as he turned back around. A picture of his mother and father still sat on his dresser, along with one of him and Jamie Anderson at graduation. He picked up the one of his parents and sat down on the bed.

He studied it like it was a clue to a case. It had been taken three years after he was born, 1959. His father was older than his mom by ten years, but he still looked young. Close chopper hair, white breast pocket shirt, blue slacks, glasses. His arm was around his mother as they both leaned back against the new Benz he had bought his mother for their anniversary.

His mother, she looked beautiful as ever. Gil smiled at the looked she was giving the camera. The story was that his Uncle Eddie was trying to take the picture and his Aunt Mary was telling and signing jokes trying to get them to smile, but his father, of course, wasn't getting any of them, and his mom wanted to laugh but was biting her lip. She wore her usual sundress, curly hair made into some kind of popular fashion, and her blue eyes sparkled.

The frame started to shake as his hands shook. He put it back on the dresser so not to drop it and looked over at the one of him and his best friend. Jamie. He picked that frame up and studied it.

They were in their graduation robes, his blue, hers white. The picture wasn't taken at the school or ceremony, but inside the house in the family room. She had stopped by on her way to a party and handed his mom the camera and signed to her, she actually signed. Then gave him a kiss on the cheek and was gone again. That was the last time he saw her.

That frame did slip from his shaking hands. It broke on the floor and he stared at the pieces before he got. He didn't bother to clean it up as he went down the hallway and into the library/study.

Everything that interested him was in this room. Books filled the shelves and overflowed onto the floor. There were two desks sitting in the middle of the room and a beam bag sat in the corner. When his father was alive, this was his office, and then it became the study. He remembered spending hours in there just reading. He read about entomology, botany, chemistry, even forensics. Every book he was sure he had read at least once.

He picked up a book on the table and turned it over, it was Moby Dick. "All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever present perils of life."

The book went back on the shelf and left the room. The interest to read was gone. The room directly across him was the studio. His mom would spend hours in there painting and drawing. He sometimes painted and drew himself, but he hadn't done it in years. Instead of going into the studio or his mother's room, he walked back downstairs.



The sun was barely coming up as he sat on the back patio sipping his coffee and smoking a cigarette. He couldn't hear the ocean from where he was, but he could smell it. This morning after he finished the coffee in his hands, he would go there and just walk. Maybe he would see a dead seagull or something.

He finished the coffee and took his last drag off the cigarette before he put it out in the ashtray; his mom would kick his ass if he flicked it in the yard, or even knew he started smoking again. The house felt cool as the air clicked on for the fifth time. Never once had this house been over sixty-five degrees and he was going to keep it that way.

The shower did wonders for his body and mind, it made him feel a little more awake and alert. He kept the water cooler than normal, he would freeze once he stepped out, but that was what he wanted to be numb again, at least on the outside.

Before he even got completely dressed he heard a knock at the door. Then the door bell went off and vibrated through the house and the lights flickered on and off. Who was here this early, couldn't be his aunt or the lawyer yet. He threw his shirt on and buttoned it up as he hurried down the stairs. When he opened the door his cousin Steven smiled at him.

"Hey, Gil, it's been awhile. Nice beard," Steven said with a smile. "Alex needs to use the bathroom, move aside."

Gil obeyed and watched as they came in. Steven moved into the foyer with his twins, Alexandra and Austin, and an unfamiliar woman. That must be his new wife. The nine year old girl hurried past the family room and down the hallway that lead to the guest room and bathroom that he was staying in. Austin, the boy, went straight for the stairs then disappeared upstairs. He turned back to Steven. "What are you doing here?"

Steven slapped him on the back. "To see you of course. That's Dana, my wife," he said then went into the kitchen. "Coffee," he asked Dana who sat down on the couch.

"Love some." Dana looked up at him. "We didn't mean to just drop in like this. But Eddie called and said you were in town and we had spent the night over at the, um...What was that place called?"

Steven came in with two cups of coffee. "The Holiday Inn sweetheart." He turned back to Gil. "We came down for Disney World, with the kids," he shrugged as he said it and sat down.

"You didn't have any big projects or buildings to knock down," Gil asked as he went to refill his own cup.

"Nothing that I can't do when I get back. I have to slam dunk the Jefferson deal or else..."

Gil came back into the room. "Or else what?"

Steven took a drink of the coffee. "I don't get the corner office."

Gil sat down on in the recliner and sipped his coffee. His cousin Steven, who was barely three years younger than him, was an architect with the biggest firm in Washington State.

"I'm the company's PR," Dana said as she crossed her legs and looked around the house. "Richard Greenbelt's my dad."

Alexandra came back into the room and sat down on Gil's lap. He looked down at the little girl and smiled.

She looked up at him with a serious look. "Uncle Gil?"

"Yeah," Gil asked as he took a drink of the coffee.

"Do you have a wife or husband yet?"

For the second time since he had been back in California he choked on his coffee. He was coughing and staring down at the little girl on his knee as Dana gasped and Steven laughed. Once he stopped coughing he looked down at the girl. "Alex, where did you get that from?"

She looked over at her dad then back at him. "Daddy told Dana that you were bi. I asked him what that meant and he said that you could marry a woman or a man, like what Uncle Herbert did."

Gil looked over at Steven. "Well, I'm not married. And tell daddy he's a pain in the ass."

Alexandra started laughing then jumped down and went upstairs.

Steven watched her go then looked over at Gil still smiling. "Hey, Dana didn't know until yesterday. I had to tell her, she's my wife." Then he got serious. "And don't say ass in front of them two. They'd be going around the house singing it here in a minute, just wait and see." He paused then he said, "Where were you, for the funeral?"

Gil dropped his gaze from them and looked into his coffee cup.

Steven shook his head. "Busy?"

Gil glanced up and shook his head.

Steven frowned. "I know it wasn't about the being framed for murder thing, that was recent, and it hasn't been going on for three months. Was it...a sode?"

Gil frowned in confusion. "A what?"

Steven shrugged. "A sode...an episode."

Gil smirked. "The twins teach you that?"

"Of course. I don't just come up with bad slang. If I did, it'd be groovy," Steven said then started laughing. "Like in high school, remember? I came down from 'The O.C.' and we hung out, listening to Zeppelin while drinking down at the beach. I said, "That's sooo groovy dude, just don't let the spider get in my beer"," Steven really started laughing then. "The seventies were such a trip."

Gil shook his head and finished his coffee. "Glad to see you're still the grown up."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just don't let that sarcasm out when the Army Captain gets here," Steven said then went serious again. "I'm sorry, Gil. Your mom was my favorite aunt, and I miss her. Just, we don't understand this. My dad was seriously hurt when his favorite nephew didn't come out here to go to his own mother's funeral."

Gil stared down at the empty coffee cup. "I shouldn't be..."

"What? His favorite? Every time he mentions what you do, everyone comes up to him and talks to him. He's proud to say his nephew is a CSI. It's the craze right now. Also, he can't help it that you remind him of his brother."

Gil glanced up. "I only remind him of my dad because we both have Asperger's."

Steven nodded. "I know. He can tell you a joke and you won't get it. It makes him smile."

"Being his lackey?"

Steven looked hurt. "You're not his lackey."

Gil stared at him then got up and left the room.

"Gil, man, come on. You're not his lackey." Steven stood and followed Gil into the kitchen. "Hey," he said as he grabbed Gil's arm then immediately withdrew it once he saw the look on Gil's face. "Neither you nor your dad were his lackeys', Gil. He loved his brother and he still loves you, just...give him some time with this." He looked around the kitchen then back at Gil. "Was, was it an episode. Is that why you didn't come? If that's it, just tell my dad that and he'll understand, right? It's happened before with you forgetting things until you get reminded."

Gil grabbed the bottle of aspirin off the counter and refilled his cup then downed three pills. "When are they coming by?"

"Noon-ish. You know my mom, she's baking right now. And dad is cleaning his shotgun and reciting Custer's Last Stand."

"That gives me time to go out and buy a bullet proof vest."

Steven laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. "Get me one too; I'm the one who dented his '31 Duesenberg when I was ten. If you're going to go down with the ship, I might as well follow."

Gil frowned into this cup. "I thought it was the '32 Rolls Royce?"

Steven eyes went wide. "You didn't...Did you?"

Gil shrugged. "I...uh, was trying to look out for you."

"Damn, both dad's beauties ruined in the summer of '69," Steven said as he leaned back against the counter. "Sad year, for everyone."

Gil licked his lips and glanced around the kitchen. He paid for the remodeling for his mother's sixtieth birthday. She was angry at first, but when she saw the end result, she couldn't stop praising him how wonderful it looked. This was the first time he had actually seen it beyond blue prints. "How's your mom," he suddenly asked.

Steven just shrugged. "She's doing great. I mean, she's going to out live us all. It has to be the Indian in her, that, or the fact that my father will go first."

"They still don't watch television," Gil asked as he took a sip of the coffee.

"'O Captain, My Captain', doesn't watch television," Steven said then he smiled. "You're going to tell them it was because of the framing, right?"

Gil shrugged. "Only if they don't know about it."

"Are you serious? If anyone would have told them about that they would have been on your doorstep. Oh, speaking of everyone, they're coming by later."

Gil stopped drinking his coffee and stared at Steven. "How much later? And who is "everybody"?"

"Like, uh, two or three and...everybody. Uncle Herbert and Uncle Dave. Aunt Wilma and Uncle Tim with William. He turned thirteen last week. I forgot, so I promised him he could bring his X-Box and I'll get him a game. Anyway, my mom and dad. Jerry and Ashley, their three kids Derek, Regan, and Riley. Maggie and Dennis with their newborn...Cole, I think. Roger is at college still, but he'll be getting out next week for Christmas break. Danielle got a new girlfriend, Nichole. They'll be stopping by too." He shrugged. "Everyone."

Gil sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

Steven smiled. "Of course, we just aren't going to accept it. Oh, and I promised beer. We need to go shopping." He took out a pack of cigarettes and went to light one up but couldn't find his lighter.

Gil snatched the pack out of his hands.

"Hey," Steven yelled. "I thought we had..." he trailed off as he watched Gil take a cigarette out and lit it up then he offered the lighter to him. "I thought you quit," he said as he accepted the lighter.

Gil took a puff then shrugged. "I thought so too."

Steven lit his cigarette then handed the lighter back. "You remember when we went to see Pink Floyd together? It was...1976, because they were performing Wish You Were Here along with Dark Side. We were smoking out in the parking lot, and you caught a lightening bug and stared singing, 'Shine on you crazy...bug'," he attempted to sing. "That was the best time I've ever had with you."

Gil took another puff off the cigarette. "You need to stop smoking the other stuff."

"I did, in 1984, best year of my life."

They both smiled but were interrupted by a sound at the doorway. Alexandra and Austin were standing there with their arms crossed.

Austin spoke up this time. "We need Kool-Aid."

Gil left the kids up to their dad and went back into the living room. Dana was trying not to look like she was bored, but even he could tell she was.

Dana looked up at him and smiled. "I'm sorry about before."

Gil sat back down and wrinkled his head in confusion before little Alexandra's question dawned on him. "She's young and still learning...It's not her fault."

"No, I mean Steven. He shouldn't have even said anything around the children. It's not something they need to hear or know about."

Gil didn't know how to take that so he just politely smiled and leaned back in the recliner with his coffee and cigarette.

"I mean," Dana continued. "Things of that nature should be left to adults. Then Alex goes and embarrasses you in front of us because she doesn't understand. Being gay isn't something people like to just blurt out on the street or at a family gathering."

Gil stared at her through half closed eyelids and wondered just where exactly Steven always seemed to find women like this. His first wife, Heather, was even worse. Steven got rid of her after their twins were born.

Steven finally came out of the kitchen with the twins, each in one arm and holding cups, and sat down on the couch. "Later, if Uncle Gil wants, he can tell you all about the ants up there on the shelf. Then, later on tonight, all about the lighting bugs in the backyard."

Austin whipped his head around and stared at Gil. "You like bugs?"

Gil smirked. "I'm an Entomologist."

Austin's eyes went wide. "You do like bugs. I have a Praying Mantis."

Gil smirk grew into a full smile. "I have an African Baboon tarantula and a Komodo Dragon."

Austin stared at him with his mouth open. "Really? Are they here?" He looked around franticly.

Gil laughed. "No. They're back in Vegas, but if I move my stuff out here, you can come over to see them."

Austin smiled and grabbed his sister's arm. "Come on. I want to read all about them." Then they were both off and up the stairs.

Steven looked over at him. "You're thinking about moving here?"

Gil nodded. "I need a change. And I don't think I can work in Vegas anymore."

Steven leaned back on the couch and put his arm around his wife. "I know people in Real Estate who can help you find a place."

"What I need to find is a Pharmacist."

"Headaches," Steven asked as he reached into his back pocket.

Gil nodded. "That...and more."

Steven handed over a card. "Dr. Karen Smith, she used to be mine when I lived out here. She recommended a great guy out in Seattle for me when I moved. He's a Naturopath, so my drugs now are all natural, herbs and shit."

Gil studied the card, flipped it over a few times. "Thanks. Is she a Naturopath too?"

Steven shook his head. "No, but she's good. If you want a Naturopath, she can find one for you."

"Huh, maybe I will move out here," Gil said with a smirk then he studied the card again.

"That's good, right," Dana asked. "Because no one probably trusts you in Vegas now, and also, California is the gay capital of the world."

Gil and Steven both stared at her. She just shrugged. Austin came in the room with Alexandra, both with books, and sat down on the floor.

Alexandra looked up at Dana. "San Francisco is actually the city with the highest percentage of homosexual people." She held up the book she had in her hands. "And California can't be a capital, it's a state."

Steven laughed while Dana just stared then looked over at Gil.

Gil smiled and shrugged. "Come get me when people get here. I'll be in the guest room." He got up and left the room but not before he gave Alexandra and Austin a high-five.

The noise from the people in the living room was shut out by the shutting of his door. He picked up the phone on the bedside table and read the number on the card. "Hello, Dr. Karen Smith? Hi, I'm Gil Grissom, Steven Grissom's cousin. Yeah. Actually, I'm moving out here and I need a Pharmacist, and he gave me your card."


8888888888


"Hey, Gil? We need to hit up the store before everyone gets here. So, we're leaving. Mom called, she, dad, and the lawyer will be here in thirty minutes. Okay," Steven yelled through the door.

"Yeah," Gil said as he picked up his car keys and opened the door. Steven was standing there with Austin in his arms.

"He's tired. Is it okay if he stays here and sleeps? I was going to put him in your old room."

Gil stared at Steven then looked down at Austin. "Yeah, fine. Um...glass was broken on the floor; I need to clean it up."

"Okay," Steven nodded then handed him Austin. "Take him up there and clean it up. We're leaving. Be back in an hour."

"An hour," Gil asked and practically yelled as Austin went to sleep on his shoulder.

Steven stopped at the end of the hallway and turned around. "We have to get food and stuff too."

"Doesn't every woman in the family still bring food?"

"Yeah, but it's mostly side dishes or cake. We need food like meat. Steaks and stuff. I'll be back before you know it."

"You just don't want to be here when your dad gets here and he's still angry," Gil said as he moved into the hallway and caught up to Steven in the living room.

Steven shrugged. "Right." Then he turned and left.

Gil sighed then looked down at the boy in his arms.

Austin opened an eye. "I just didn't want to go."

Gil smirked at the boy. "Yeah, and I didn't want to stay."

Austin sat up on his arm. "I can go with you. We can talk about your tarantula. Who you got to see?"

"A doctor, but it shouldn't take long." Gil sat the boy down. "Go get your shoes on."

Austin beamed a smile at him then hurried to the foyer and got his shoes on. They left through the garage door and set the alarm.


8888888888


The visit to Karen Smith's office wasn't long at all. He called on his cell before he reached the office and told her he was almost there. She greeted him at the door and offered him a seat. Austin sat next to him and paid attention to the various objects around the room.

"So, Dr. Grissom," Karen began. "I called your Pharmacist in Vegas, he gave me your prescription, but it was only for Depakote. He did, however, say you were depressed when you came to see him last to get on a depression medication."

Gil nodded. "Yeah, but I was never put on one by him. He said give it two weeks and if I still was depressed then he'll set me up with a Psychiatrist who could diagnose it and give me a prescription. Later, I went to a different doctor, and he did put me on one." He pulled out his wallet and handed over the prescription along with another one. "That was a little over three months ago."

"And you're still depressed," Karen asked as she looked over the slips.

"Yeah, it's one of the reason's I moved from Vegas. Thought I just needed a change in atmosphere," Gil shrugged.

Karen glanced up at him from the slips she was reading. "Did it also have something to do with the murders you were framed for?"

Gil stared at the woman. He noticed Austin looked up at that and looked at Karen before he looked over at him. He went to speak when she cut him off.

"A situation like that could make a person depressed, along with the other things that have happened...I will prescribe you these and hope you get feeling better."

Gil smirked. "Thank you."

Five minutes later he was handed a bag with three bottles of medication in it. He shook Karen's hand before he left and thanked her. Before he made it out the door she stopped him.

"Do you have that card Steven gave you," She asked.

Gil nodded and reached into his pocket and handed it to her.

She took out a pen and wrote on the back then handed it back to him. "My home number, just in case." Then she disappeared back into her office.

Once they got out to the car, Austin buckled his belt in the back and looked at him. "Was that woman hitting on you?"

Gil glanced into the rearview mirror at him. "I think so."

Austin laughed. "That's funny."

Gil stared out at the road and concentrated on the drive home. He turned on the radio and searched the stations. It landed on a classical station but Austin covered his ears at it, so he changed it again and stopped on "Midnight Rider" by The Allman Brothers. "Better?"

Austin uncovered his ears and listened. "Yep."

"Do you know the words?"

"Some of them, just the main parts."

The drive back to Santa Monica from Las Angeles was an adventure, but he managed it with the help of Austin in the back singing along to just about every song that came on the Classic Rock station. By the time he got back to his mother's house, two cars and a minivan were parked in front. One was his Uncle Eddie's Mustang, the Subaru minivan was Steven's, and the other was a Cadillac which must belong to the lawyer.

Gil automatically opened the garage door and pulled in and parked and told Austin to go ahead and go in. He opened the bag on the passenger seat and opened all the bottles, dumping one of each in his hand, one of Depakote, Zoloft, and Valium, then swallowed them dry before he got out of his car.

The living room was filled with people. Uncle Eddie sat in the recliner and the man that must be the lawyer sat on the couch. Aunt Mary attended the kitchen and got everyone coffee. Steven stared at him with Dana on his side from the entryway into the family room. Alexandra and Austin must be upstairs.

Gil made his way into the guest room and put the bag in the top drawer of the dresser before he went back out into the living room and introduced himself to the lawyer.

"Dr. Gil Grissom," Gil said as he extended his hand.

"John Walsh," John extended his hand and shook it.

Gil blinked for a moment then sat down in the adjacent sofa next to the couch and accepted the coffee from his aunt.

"I brought you some pie and fruit salad," Mary said before she went back into the kitchen to start on whatever else she brought to make here.

Steven moved into the living room and leaned against a bookshelf. Dana wasn't anywhere to be seen. Eddie just stared at him then looked at his coffee before he took a drink.

John cleared his throat. "I'm glad we could do this today. With the holiday season coming up, I'm usually booked solid until March."

Gil numbly nodded and took a sip of the coffee. "It was short notice."

John waved it off. "I'm just glad we're getting it done now." He picked up the briefcase that was on the floor. "Now, I need you to sign some papers then I'll discuss with you what was in the will."

Gil took to papers and quickly read them over then signed his name at five different places and dated them all. "I don't really care what she left me, I just want to know what I owe the family for arrangements that I should have done and paid for." He looked over at Steven.

Steven smiled. "I accept the gesture, but your mom had a savings account that was meant specifically for all funeral arrangements."

"There was also," John continued. "An account for you that she left." He handed Gil a paper.

Gil took it and looked it over. "But, I don't need money."

"She knew that. Look down at the bottom," John said.

Gil glanced down at the bottom then up at John. "She left it for...my family?"

"Yeah," John shrugged. "She wanted you to know that whoever you're with, she'd make sure you had all have all you need."

Gil frowned in confusion then shook his head. "It'd be put to go use," he finally said.

John nodded. "You also have the house."

Steven laughed. "Great, now we don't have to find you a house."

"You're moving here," Mary asked as she came back into the room with a pot of coffee in her hands.

Gil watched her refill Eddie's cup and John's cup. He waved her off and she waited for an answer. "I'm thinking about it."

"That's wonderful. Ed, isn't that wonderful?"

Eddie stared at Gil. "It's great, Mary."

Steven pushed himself off the bookshelf and crossed his arms. "Hey, dad. Leave Gil alone okay. He's had a hard time these last few months, okay."

Eddie started up at his son then over at Gil. "What happened, Gilbert?"

Gil went to protest but turned to Steven. "What are you doing?"

"I'm defending you. It wasn't your fault," Steven was practically fuming.

Gil went to say something then stopped.

"Well," Eddie yelled and stood up. "What was so damn important out in Vegas that you couldn't come out here? Come on, Gilbert, I'm waiting."

Gil stared up at the Army Captain. "It doesn't matter. I wasn't here, I screwed up. It was nothing."

Eddie stood in front of him with his arms crossed. His face was turning red, but he wouldn't yell, yet. "You screwed up huh? It wouldn't be the first time."

"Dad," Steven did yell. "Gil didn't do anything but his job. You don't know what went on in Vegas, so just shut it."

Gil stared wide eyed at his cousin. The thought of just leaving and going for a walk came to mind but he knew he couldn't get out of the house without a search party coming for him.

Steven continued. "Gil was in a position where he couldn't leave, okay. So, back off."

Eddie went to yell but nothing came out. He looked down at Gil. "What's going on? Why are you here now?"

Gil shook his head and stared at the floor. "I can't...It's none of your business."

"You're our nephew, it is our business," Mary said from the kitchen.

Gil sighed. His hands were starting to shake again so he had to put the coffee cup down on the table. Trying to steady them before anyone saw wasn't working.

Steven put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Gil put his head in his hands. "I'm sick of everyone asking me that. I'm fine." He quickly stood, knocking Steven's hand off his shoulder and went down the hall and into the guest room and shut the door.

No one bothered him until the rest of the family showed up.


8888888888


Gil was certain that Uncle Eddie and Aunt Mary knew about what happened. Eddie had come over to him as soon as he stepped into the living room and shook his hand and said, "Next time, let us know, huh?" Then walked over to Maggie with her newborn son, Cole.

Aunt Mary came up to him and just hugged him and smiled then joined Eddie. Gil sighed and tried to make his way to the kitchen. He was stopped by just about everyone and hugged by the women, hand shakes from the men. When he finally made it to the kitchen, his Uncle Herbert, who was his mom's brother, was in there with Uncle Dave, his lover for thirty years. Steven walked in behind him with his Uncle Tim.

"Hey, Gil," Steven said while he grabbed two beers out of the fridge and handed him one.

Herbert, Herb for short, looked him up and down. "You dying?"

Gil stared at him then took a sip of the beer. "Yeah, something like that, I'm on a new diet, and trying to keep out of the sun."

Dave smiled at him. "We were following what was going on in Vegas. We were rooting for you the whole time."

Gil smirked. "Thanks."

His cousin Derek walked in and looked around. "Have you seen Will?"

"Yeah," Steven said. "He's up in Uncle Gil's old room playing X-Box."

Derek smiled then ran out of the kitchen.

Steven looked around and shrugged. "Kids."

"Speaking of which, you thinking about having kids Gil," Uncle Tim asked him as he leaned up against the counter.

Gil sighed and leaned back against the opposite counter. Steven was next to him. "No."

"I knew it," Dave said and turned to Herb. "I win the bet, pay up."

Herb turned to Dave and said nonchalantly. "What I have planned to reward you can't be done here."

Steven choked on his beer while Gil just smiled and glanced over at Tim who was almost blushing.

"Okay, enough guys. Who's up for some music," Tim said then went to leave.

"Hey, hey, hey, Willie. You're not singing." Steven said through coughs.

Everyone called Uncle Tim Willie because if he was a little older he'd look exactly like Willie Nelson. Tim's wife was Gil's mom's sister.

Tim pointed his finger at Steven. "Hey, I don't tell you want to do, so you can't tell me."

Steven laughed. "Like hell I can't."

Steven then followed Tim out the door.

Gil shook his head and turned back to his two Uncles. "I better go and visit with everyone else." He went to leave then turned back. "Don't be doing anything in here that would make mom kick your asses."

Herb and Dave both put on their innocent look. "We won't." They both said at the same time.

Gil nodded with a smile then left the kitchen. He looked around and observed the people gathered in the living and family rooms'. Aunt Wilma and Ashley, Jerry's wife, was with Maggie now and pinching the Cole's face off. Uncle Jerry, Eddie's brother, was standing with Steven and Dana watching as Tim went through the CD's trying to figure out which one he could try to play and sing along with. Dennis, Maggie's husband, was chatting with Eddie about something. And Danielle, Nichole, and Mary were sitting at the dining room table looking over pictures. The kids had to all be upstairs playing games and the X-Box, or out in the backyard running around.

Gil headed for the back door and out onto the porch. He took out a cigarette and lit it up. To his relief, the kids weren't out there. The stereo in the house started and Terry Reid's "Seed of Memory" started. He frowned, of all the damn songs, why that one. Not more than a minute into the song it cut off and he could hear Steven yelling something. Then The Beatles started instead. It was "The One" album. That was better.

He sat down on the back steps and listened to "Love Me Do".



Steven head a knock at the door, because he was standing in front of it talking to Danielle and Nichole. He frowned and pulled open the door to find a young man standing there.

The man seemed uncertain and looked down at a piece of paper he was holding. "Is this Val Grissom's home?"

Steven looked the man over. He had short cut hair, blue button up shirt, blue jeans, and his accent was Texan. "Yeah. Who are you?"

Nick smiled. "I'm Nick Stokes. Is Gil Grissom here?"

Steven opened the door a little wider and stepped onto the porch. "Why?" He crossed his arms and took a solid stance.

Nick's smiled faded. "Hey, look, I work with him at the Las Vegas Crime Lab." He took his wallet out and gave it to Steven. "I just want to make sure he's alright. He left Vegas in such a hurry..." he trailed off and shrugged.

Steven looked over the ID then handed it back to Nick. "Nick, I'm Steven Grissom." He shook hands with Nick. "I'm Gil's cousin. This is kind of a family gathering, but you can come in."

Nick smiled and walked in. He was taken back by the amount of people in the home and the kids running from the kitchen and back up the stairs. Gil never mentioned he had a lot of family.

Steven patted Nick on the shoulder. "Friend of Gil's huh? Is that all?"

Nick was slightly thrown off then smiled. "Huh, we're practically family."

Steven laughed and his hand slammed against Nick's back. "Cool man."

By this time, the whole family was looking in Nick's direction.

Nick blushed and smiled. "Hi all."

Steven spoke up for Nick. "This is Nick Stokes, Gil's friend from Vegas."

"Nice going Gil."

Nick turned at looked at the older man who was coming out of the kitchen with another man.

"Herb, don't embarrass the boy," Mary said as she walked up to Nick. "Hi, I'm Gil's Aunt Mary. Welcome," she said then looked at Steven. "Where's Gil?"

"Um, I don't know."

"He's up in the library," William said as he walked down the steps then disappeared into the kitchen.

Steven looked over at him. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

Nick nodded. "Thanks." Then went up the stairs.

The commotion started up again downstairs but Nick concentrated on the door in front of him. He eased it open softly and stood and watched as Gil, with two kids staring at him in awe, told them about fireflies.

"Fireflies are actually soft-bodied beetles that get up to 2.5 centimeter's long, and they have dark brown of black front wings called elytra."

"Why do they blink," asked the boy.

"Well Austin, usually to attract a mate."

"You mean a girl or boyfriend," the girl piped up. "Cause that's gross."

Gil smiled. "If they didn't, there would be no more fireflies."

Austin nodded with a serious expression on his face then looked around the room. Nick smiled as the kid looked at him.

"Uncle Gil, there's a man looking at you."

Gil frowned in confusion then looked over. If it was possible, he looked more confused as he stared at Nick. "Nick?"

Nick came further into the library. "Hey, Griss." He smiled down at the two kids. "Hi."

Alexandra studied then looked over at Gil. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Gil stared at the little girl and didn't know what to say. Finally he shook his head. "No."

"Okay, just checking. I didn't know if he was bi too or not." Alexandra looked back up at Nick who was just as shocked as Gil. "Sorry, life's confusing."

Nick nodded. "I know the feeling."

"Alex, why don't you and Austin go and play with your cousins, now," Gil said as he looked at Nick.

The kids got up and left the room, shutting the door behind them.

Nick blushed as he looked at the floor then over at Gil. "Your niece's and nephew's are something else."

Gil looked serious. "They're my cousins. Steven's kids."

"Oh," Nick said as he sat down beside Gil. "That's right; you have no brother's or sister's just a shit load of cousins, aunts, and uncles."

Gil frowned in hurt for a split second then it was gone. "I never said I didn't have family, but I was alone for a lot of my life. They just really seem to care now...I haven't seen a lot of them since I was sixteen." He paused then said, "What are you doing here?"

Nick frowned then and stood up. "An ultimatum."

Gil was confused. "For what?"

"Either come back to Vegas and let us help you, or, I stay here and help you."

Gil saw the seriousness in Nick and sat back in the chair. This was going to be a long night.

***

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