Title: Catastrophe
By: Evan Nicholas
Characters: Gil Grissom, Greg Sanders, Other, Lady Heather
Rating: FRT 13
Warnings: None
Summary: There's something wrong with Greg. There has to be.
NOTES:
1. Refers to a lot of episodes, or rather to a lot of characters from various episodes. Possible spoilers.
2. My hat off to Janissa, who rocks as only a beautiful... um, quartzite... can? Hm. Let me get back to you on that.

------

There's something wrong with Greg.

There has to be, Gil thinks in the safety of his office; either there's something abysmally wrong with him, or he's living on borrowed time. And call him selfish, but Gil would rather have a fatally flawed Greg around than no Greg at all.

He doesn't fall like this often, doesn't find himself utterly overwhelmed by his emotions every day... but when it happens, it inevitably happens in such a way as to be ripped away from him before he can find any peace.

He thinks of the first of his many totally inappropriate infatuations, Disco Placid. Jazz producer with perfect pitch and a perfect mind to go with it; a sense of humour to rival his sense of rhythm, and a smile that just kept going and going and going....

...and one of the most devotedly heterosexual men Gil has ever known. Not vehement about it - he didn't freak out the time that Gil tried to turn a quick bite between takes into an actual dinner date - but very firm nonetheless. Gil can still see Disco's smile and the kindness in his eyes as he broke it down for Gil, how he was flattered - really, he was, because Gil was an amazing guy - but unable to reciprocate.

That had been almost ten years ago, and they've stayed friends since then. They don't see each other all that much anymore, but when they do - either professionally, or when Gil runs into him at a jazz club where one of Disco's proteges is performing - things are good. Solid. Comfortable, and Gil is thankful for that.

Then there was Dominic Kretzker. Hard not to fall for a guy who is that in awe of you, that convinced that you're wonderful, that trusting in the system and in you; that quick to see through your defenses and accuse you cheerfully of the truth.

Dominic had been pretty sharp, too, in his own way. It was a self-taught intelligence, and fairly limited to the field of explosives, but still. He knew what interested him and he went after it doggedly, and he had one of the finest qualities that Gil admires in scientific-minded people: an eagerness to share his knowledge. There was no hoarding of ideas, of expertise with Dominic - what he understood, he wanted everyone to understand, and Gil found that refreshing.

Probably he was straight, too, Gil thinks, but he'll never know, he'll never have the chance to find out the hard way: he got blown up. Saved a lot of lives, maybe (arguably not, Gil admits, but his actions were those of a hero and in Gil's mind that counts), but it cost him his own life in the end.

Then there was Tony Arcane, who specialised in shock-illusion, who took the tried-and-tested magic tricks of old and dressed them up in fake blood and strobe lighting. Brilliant at what he did, and oddly compelling in his presence. Not that Gil was particularly drawn to him, but the guy had flirted so overtly with him that it had been difficult not to feel a certain attraction. Someone that gutsy, someone that brash, someone that young who was interested in him... Well, Gil was only human, right?

But not really cut from the same cloth, apparently. He'd gone back to see one of Toby's shows again, after the case had wrapped up. He'd managed to finagle a pass backstage - well, 'pass' was probably a strong word; he had flashed his NVPD credentials and the hired thug had let him in - and he had almost walked in on what could best be described as an orgy.

Gil is fairly certain he would have been invited to participate - from what he had seen, it had looked like an inviting crowd - but that really wasn't his scene. Regardless of how drawn he was to Tony, there was no way he would let himself be pulled into that quagmire. So he'd left, and he's never gone back again, because he has the feeling that he'd only end up seeing the same spectacle. Different faces, maybe; different people but the same mess.

Lady Heather. Ha. He'd really fucked that one up, hadn't he? It didn't even bear dwelling on. He was a criminalist to the core, and something about her had made him defensive. Too defensive for his own good, because the first chance he'd had, he blew it. Didn't even offer an apology or a half-assed explanation, just - called the cops and switched her from the 'lover' category to the 'suspect' one.

And of course, his personal favourite, Paul Milander. The biggest almost-mistake of his life, and he's made quite a few. He can still feel that insistent attraction deep inside his body when he thinks about him, even knowing the absolute truth as he does. Their first encounter had been electric, standing in that warehouse of nightmares with two cops watching over them in boredom. Paul's smile still plays in his mind from that first time, his smile and the light in his eyes.

And their second meeting, the coffee they'd shared and the gentle conversation that accompanied it - the two of them alone together, suddenly shy about this thing between them, dancing around each other like they were in high school again. If Gil hadn't been so consumed with the case he would have stayed longer, would have pushed for - for something, would have voiced the beginnings of his feelings. But he'd had to rush off, and in his mind he had promised himself that he'd come back and ask him out, just like that...

Only, of course (inevitably, Gil thinks, because he's rapidly becoming a pessimist about these things) he was guilty. Serial killer, and far too brilliant for Gil to catch him; just slipped into the shadows of Vegas, never to be seen again. Good thing, Gil remembers thinking, that I didn't put myself in his hands, at his mercy, any more than I already did.

But then he went and did it again, didn't he? Dinner at Judge Mason's house. With Judge Mason's wife and son. Still a serial killer, Gil had known at the time; and still every bit as electrifying as he'd ever been. Gil had made a fool of himself that day, both in court and that evening at dinner, but that was hardly new. He was getting used to being slightly brainless around Paul Milander.

Even the truth about his physiology hadn't fazed him. It was just another compelling facet to a very compelling man, and Gil had periodically found himself, during the course of that investigation, having to remind himself of why Paul was on the don't-go-there list.

It's most definitely a good thing that he's dead, Gil thinks; not because he thinks the world is necessarily a better place without him, but because if he were still alive, some part of Gil would still be pining for him, and that would make him one hell of a liability as a criminalist.

So: Gil runs through his list again.

Disco: straight.
Dominic: probably straight, definitely dead.
Tony: a little too alternative.
Heather: bridges burned too completely to go back.
Paul: dead, on top of being a serial killer.

And... Greg.

He's not sure when that attraction walloped him, but it seems like it snuck up on him overnight, totally without warning. One day he was mildly irritated at the younger man's buoyancy, and the next he was daydreaming about what mischief Greg could probably get up to with his tongue.

He supposes, really, that it was a gradual thing, one endearing quality piled on top of another on top of another, and he had just never noticed the accretion until he tripped over it. This is a recognisable pattern in his life, Gil thinks; but that doesn't make it any less maddening.

So he needs to know, he really does, what's wrong with Greg. Hopefully it's something as simple as being straight, although Gil will admit - given how absolutely wrong he was about Paul in the first instance - that Greg could prove to have skeletons galore in his closet.

But whatever it is, Gil thinks, he needs to find out now, so he can move on and stop worrying that Greg's going to get killed. Sure, he survived being thrown through plate glass when the lab exploded, but that was just luck. He can't let go of the feeling that, unless Greg proves to be a necrophiliac or something unfathomable, he's got a target painted on his back.

Because there is no way that Greg is as acceptable as he seems to be.

Gil's life just doesn't work out that way.