Previous part of story - Change Is Never Easy

THE HOUSE: 11:15

"C'mon in, guys. Thanks a heap for doin' this..."

"No problem." Blair responded, studying Nick intently as he shut the door. "You look worse than Greg described... ow! What?" he added when Jim elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

"H.T.W.C." Ellison reminded him, causing Nick to raise an eyebrow. Blair flushed briefly and explained.

"It stands for Honesty Tempered With Compassion.

"You don't mind him callin' you out like that?"

"No way. It's better than his other favorite acronym."

"Go ahead." Nick prompted when the younger man hesitated.

"K.B.B.F.G. Kick-start Brain Before Flapping Gums."

Nick began to laugh, but it instantly shifted into a soft groan when the pain flared again. Knowing from long experience that Blair's Guide skills would do more good than anything he could offer, Jim moved into the background to help with packing up the keyboard. Blair smiled at his retreating form then re-focused on Nick, laying a hand on the Texan's shoulder. "Hey, you alright, man?"

"It's nothin'... just a headache."

"That's what Greg said. Come sit down, I'll see what I can do for you, okay?"

A few minutes later, Greg joined the pair on the couch while Jim took a chair nearby, curious to see what Blair would try to relieve Nick's pain. When he saw Blair using all-too familiar massage and vocal techniques, his eyes widened. Catching the expression, Greg questioned him.

"What's up?"

"Up?"

"You look kinda shocked."

"Not exactly... Can you come in the kitchen with me for a minute? I need to ask you something."

Greg's brow creased slightly but he complied, rising and following the other man out of the room.

"What couldn't you say in front of Nick?"

"I can... just not yet. I have to confirm what I'm thinking first. Did he tell you why the headache came on?"

"Yeahhh... the keyboard was getting to him."

"Weren't you using the earphones?"

"The whole time. That was a little weird, I guess. He said..."

"What?" Jim urged, his voice unconsciously taking on intense undertones. Greg stepped back and Jim held up his hands palm out. "Hey, I'm sorry. No danger here, I promise. I just really need an answer. This could be incredibly important. Please don't hold out."

"He... Nick said he could hear me play, even with the 'phones plugged in... and that it was rock concert loud."

At this news, Jim struggled to keep his face neutral, aware that the last thing Greg needed was the added stress of possibly losing his best friend and protector. Despite his effort, the perceptive young man picked up on the increased tension in the air. "What's going on? Is Nick okay?"

"As far as I know... yes."

"As far as you know? What the hell does that mean? Just tell me the truth, I can deal with whatever it is..."

Before Jim could respond or explain, a solid body shoved into the space between them, blocking Greg from view, and he was eye to eye with Nick.

"Quit upsettin' him."

Jim rolled his eyes at Blair, who had entered right on Nick's heels, then turned back to try and head off the imminent confrontation.

"I didn't mean to. We were just talking and something I said came out wrong."

"I'm good, Nick. Seriously, I'm fine." Greg exhorted, touching the older man's bicep gently.

Blair now returned the disbelieving expression that Jim had shot his way earlier and did his part to begin emptying the crowded kitchen.

"I'm really glad you're feeling better, man, but you still need to rest. A migraine like that takes it out of you."

"He messed with Greg..."

"Nick, look at him. Take a good look. He's not hurt, not mad anymore."

"Yeah... maybe."

"He is worried about you, though."

"G. ?"

"He's right, Nicky. You lay down. You know I'll be safe. Go with Blair, okay?"

After another few edgy moments and one more glower at Jim, Nick allowed himself to be pulled away toward the bedroom. Greg waited until he heard the door close and at that point he rounded on the weary Sentinel, producing an even fiercer scowl and a hushed, but clearly non-negotiable, demand.

"I wanna know what you meant and I wanna know right now! You tell me what's wrong with Nick!"

"There's nothing wrong. It's... something's happening, but it's not bad. At least, it doesn't have to be."

"Could you vague that up a little more? I don't think it was obscure enough."

"Look, Blair explains this a lot better than I do. We should sit back down and wait for him..."

Greg crossed his arms over his chest and Jim sighed to himself, but the other man relented minimally.

"You start. Promise me that... and you can hand it over to him when he gets back."

"Deal."

HEATHER'S DOMAIN:

"Excellent, Gil. Stay in control... breathe deeply and slowly."

"Mmmm... not happening when I'm... doing this... with another person..."

"Really. I've never known an erection to cause a memory lapse. Have you lost any of our other lessons?"

"No, Mistress."

"I didn't think so."

"Alright... correction. I might not be... able to focus like this... when or if... I get to see Jim for the... first time."

"Possible, but if you can, think how impressed he'll be."

"And the pleasure will be that much more intense... I know. Mistress... now, please?"

"Speak plainly. Then I'll say yes."

"I... I need release... please, may I come?"

"Much better. Go ahead. As you touch yourself, describe what you're doing."

Grissom paled slightly and licked his suddenly dry lips.

"Mistress... I don't..."

"This is as new to Jim as it to you, Gil. If you can articulate what you like and what you want from him, he won't be nearly as anxious and worried."

Gil laughed to himself about that scenario for a few moments, but then he once again remembered Ellie and realized that Brass absolutely possessed those emotions. It was simply difficult for him to show them, fearing it would be seen as weakness and used against him somehow.

Studying his shifting expression, Heather smiled and tapped him lightly on the cheek. I think I know where your mind is right now, but if we could get back to the review I was trying to conduct..." she admonished with gentle humor.

"Of course. Apologies, Mistress."

"It's fine. We'll discuss your train of thought over lunch. Now, if you wouldn't mind..."

"Right. The, uh... the... okay."

"You know this is a safe place. Trust me to guide you, Gil."

"Truth, willingness, no shame. Truth, willingness, no shame..." he recited for strength as he slid his right hand down over his abdomen and wrapped it around his erection. "I... I like it to stay slow, at least at first. Touches anywhere but underneath along the vein are good. Oh, god..."

"Easy. Breathe deeply, Gil... deeply."

"It's just... been too long... this is..."

"I know and I won't make you wait much more. Another minute or two. Tell me about your preferences when a partner chooses to lick or suck you."

"Slow... better if they... stick to the head... and just behind it... until I'm almost ready to... to orgasm..."

"Then you enjoy being taken all the way in?"

"No. No, I... I worry about... the other person being... uncomfortable... or about hurting them... and it distracts me... so most of the way, but... no deep throat."

"But drinking your release is acceptable?"

"Condoms always. Never been with... somebody I trust or... know well enough not to. Mistress please..."

"Agreed. You've done very well. Proceed. Good. Faster... steady, firm strokes... excellent. Your technique hasn't suffered for the lack of practice. What a beautiful expression you have when you orgasm, Gil. I'd forgotten... breathe, now. That's it. A definite blue ribbon on the exercise. You've more than earned a hearty meal *and* dessert. Let's go get you washed up, hmmm?"

Gil rose slowly to his feet and followed her to the small en-suite bathroom, but as anxious as he was to be clean again, he paused momentarily before stepping in.

"It only gets more difficult from here."

Heather squeezed his shoulder briefly, hearing both the question and the statement in what he'd said.

"I believe in you every bit as much as you have to believe in me, Gil. You'll be fine."

GREG'S HOUSE: 12:30

Blair slipped back out into the living room quickly, careful to keep the closing door as silent as possible, and moved back toward the central grouping of furniture, Fascinated, he found a slight grin on his lips as he listened to Jim's point of view on their initial meeting.

"No way." Greg intoned, sounding faintly awe-struck. "A garbage truck? An actual garbage truck?"

"Actual and factual." Blair responded, strolling around the arm of the sofa and settling beside Jim. "I seriously expected to end up a smear on the pavement. I'm still amazed either one of us survived."

"Your dumb luck helped a lot." Jim snorted. Blair slid his hand into Jim's, leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"You know I don't believe in that. I keep telling you, eventually you and I would've connected, babe. The universe has a million ways of working around, under and over the typical clueless human being so everything stays on track. Maybe it took some time and effort, but we proved we were meant for each other and we were meant to do amazing things together."

Jim returned the kiss.

"You and I are anything but typical."

His brow furrowed slightly, Greg shook his head and injected a comment.

"Yeah, we'll get to that in a minute. How's Nick?"

"Better. I finally got him calm enough to sleep. He should be out for a couple hours."

"Good. Now tell me what happened to him."

Blair flushed slightly and fought to keep his gaze fixed on Greg's.

"It's, uh... it's not just Nick. You're as much a part of this as he is."

"Jim didn't get much of a chance to explain exactly what *this* is. He said when you met he was different. Unhappy, frustrated, mad all the time..."

"Yeah... yah, he was. See, at the time Jim thought maybe he was headed for a rubber room. If something hadn't happened to shift his course... he might've been right."

Greg's eyes widened and Blair paused, sensing disagreement was pending.

"Jim? Uh-uh. No freaking way. Everything you've written me about him, all the phone conversations..."

"I know, but it's true. You kinda had to be there when it was all going down, to be in the moment with him to really get it. Ever since he was little, Jim's been able to hear and see way beyond what other people could. All his senses are enhanced, actually. His dad... all he could see was that his son wasn't normal, so to survive Jim had to deny his gift. Eventually... he just shut it down completely."

Greg was now clearly livid; his face red, his expression dark and drawn inward. Jim had never experienced the tale of his father's seeming betrayal through someone else's eyes, at least not when he was willing and able to truly pay attention and focus on the other person. Now Jim found himself strangely touched by Greg's obvious anger on behalf of the confused, hurting child he had once been. He knew, even if Greg didn't, that the emotions came partially from the younger man's recent discovery of Naomi's lies, but the knowledge didn't diminish the impact on Ellison's heart.

"Son of a... I don't understand. That's not a father. That's not love. How could... why would he do that?"

"Well... see, it's not..."

Jim squeezed his lover's wrist lightly and took over.

"My mom left pretty early. My brother was only a couple years old. Dad couldn't deal with that and handle my weirdness too. Plus the money circles he ran in... if it got out he'd have been humiliated. So he made me hide it, told me never to tell anybody or show what I could do in public. Turns out, isolation for long periods brings it back to the surface..."

Greg gasped quietly.

"I know this part. Blair told me you were lost in the jungle over a year."

"Not lost. The Chopec, this native tribe in Peru, saved my life. I was with them practically the whole time. They knew about my senses somehow. I was amazed they just took it in stride, like it was the most normal thing in the world... as if I was normal. I helped them out, hunted and worked... guarded the tribe. It was incredible to be able to just use my abilities with no fear, no worry. After a while, my mentor, Incacha, started telling me I was born to be some... great warrior. That someday I'd have my own territory to protect and when I was ready a very special person would show up to help me with the job. I wanted to believe, I really did. When I got rescued, though, and I was back in the world, I knew it had to stop... that nobody out here would understand or accept me the way the Chopec did. Trouble was, this time I couldn't make the expanded senses shut off, no matter what I did, and away from the peace of the jungle... it was just overwhelming. Destroyed my marriage. Like Blair said... I was ready to check myself into the nut-house for life."

Pausing to take a few deep breaths, Jim looked at Blair and found his Guide's mouth hanging open. "What?"

"You have never said that many words at one time since I've known you."

"I have too."

"No. You haven't."

"You choose to start this now, Sandburg? Can I finish the story, huh?"

Before Jim could continue, however, Greg came to the inevitable conclusions all by himself.

"Hang on... wait, wait, wait. You're saying, what... that Nick's like Jim?"

"He may not have all five enhanced senses, but, yeah... we think he might be a Sentinel." Blair confirmed.

"And if you're Jim's 'very special person'... you mean... you think I'm..."

"We do." Jim responded gently. "We believe you're a Guide... Nick's guide."

Greg was silent for several minutes, struggling to process the exceptionally strange things he'd just heard. The other two waited him out patiently, knowing from experience that comprehension of their circumstances and their world couldn't be rushed. Unfortunately, just as the younger man was ready to speak again, vigorous knocking reverberated through the space. All three jerked their heads toward the door. Greg paled and leapt from his seat and Jim was only seconds behind. A look between him and Blair communicated all that was necessary.

"Defcon 3." The smaller man stated. Jim nodded once and turned back to Greg.

"Could that be someone from work, kid?"

"No. They know better. They call and make sure we know they're on the way."

"Crap. Do you trust me?"

"What? I... yeah... yeah, I guess..."

"Okay, can you trust me for as long as it takes? I swear I'll protect you like Nick would."

Greg nodded uncertainly. "Get to the door, Chief. I'll let you know when to open it." Jim directed, already urging Greg into the kitchen. Blair rose, wiped his now damp palms on his jeans and swiftly moved into position.

SIMULTANEOUSLY:

Absently, feeling as if he were still ninety percent asleep, Nick's hand drifted up and swiped at his face to discourage whatever irritation had woken him. The sensation of dampness on his fingertips drew him a little farther out of his drowsy state. With the shades drawn and the ceiling fan slowly rotating, the room had been relatively cool and comfortable when he lay down earlier. It seemed odd that he should now be sweating.

Finally cracking one eye partially open, he stretched lightly while his vision adjusted. When it did, he wished it hadn't. Sitting bolt upright, he gazed around him, wonder and slight fear warring for control within him. The bed remained, but everything else around him was utterly transformed.

"Desert? No wonder I'm burnin' up. But how the hell... I'm dreamin'. Yeah... I must be. I never feel anything in my dreams, though... and man that sun's nasty." He murmured, looking up and shading his eyes with his forearm. Rising to his feet, Nick realized he could also sense the potent heat of the sand seeping up through the soles of his boots. This awareness amped up his unease a little more.

"I took 'em off before I fell asleep. Damn it, I know I did..."

But how do you know what you know?

Nick jumped and swung around in a rapid circle, searching for the source of the words that had just been wryly spoken, presumably only a few inches away from where he stood. The tone had been very close to what he would call middle ground, leaving him uncertain as to whether the voice was male or female, young or old.

A little sun can be good for you, but you're getting too much. Time to come inside, now. We have much to discuss and only a short time. Please, hurry.

"Wha... where the hell are you, huh? Where'd you bury the speaker? And the generator to power it? Wait... I'd be able to hear a generator an' I can't hear anything but that damned voice... Car battery? Nah, I'd still get noise an' vibration... be able to track 'em to the source..."

The voice spoke once more and this time Nick thought he could detect just the slightest trace of exasperation.

Turn. Around.

Slowly, he shifted to gaze behind him and saw a long, low adobe building.

Walk.

Nick fought down the urge to grin at the idea that a disembodied voice could be frustrated and hesitantly began moving in the direction of the structure. A sudden burst of wind shoved at his back.

I believe I said hurry.

Nick actually paused and looked around him once more before choosing to pick up his pace. As he neared the threshold and prepared to step inside, something flew at his head and he ducked. A moment later he finally did smile.

"You're in charge. Got it."

I should hope so. Keep walking.

"Yeah... right."

A few short, cautious steps took him just into the dark, cool space, but there he stopped. "Okay. This is as far as I go until I get some answers."

You haven't asked any relevant questions.

Nick chuckled ruefully.

"You got me there. Let's start with a big one. Who are you?"

That is dependent on who you are.

"Look. Enough with the word games. Just tell me what's goin' on, willya?"

I have played no games. You simply aren't paying attention.

"Dang it all to... Alright, alright. Who am I?"

The protector. The guardian. Unique, extraordinary, but not alone. You are the Sentinel of a Great City. And I... I am the manifestation of your heart and your spirit.

Abruptly, flames sprang up in front of Nick, momentarily blinding him, and he cried out, stumbling back a step.

Don't be afraid. There is yet no harm facing you. Stay where you are. See... and understand.

Once his vision recovered from the split-second change from blackness to bright light, Nick straightened and complied, finding his natural curiosity was stronger than his fear. Gradually, a striking avian shape began to separate itself from the inferno, rising toward the ceiling.

"Oh my God... oh... my God. Can't be."

But it is. I am. This is who you truly are, Nicholas Stokes. You are the Phoenix, overcoming tragedy, surmounting all obstacles placed in your path, transforming ashes and despair into light and life and strength.

"But..."

No. This is more than enough to go on with for the moment. Ponder what you've heard. Go deeply within yourself. You will discover the truth of my words. Go now. Your Guide will need you very soon.

"Guide? What the hell is that supposed to mean..."

No more questions! Return to the place where you entered this realm! Now!

Hearing a suggestion of fear this time, Nick shook his head, turned and jogged wearily back to where Greg's bed still waited for him. Exhaustion suddenly swamping him, he dropped down and curled up, falling asleep within moments.

"Okay, Chief. Do it."

Blair wrapped his hand around the knob, but didn't immediately follow Jim's directive. Instead he turned to uncover the source of the heavy footsteps behind him. He was relieved to find it was only Nick, but then the frantic expression on the Texan's face registered and Blair stepped away from the door.

"Nick, what is it?"

"Greg! Where is he?"

"In the kitchen with Jim. Somebody knocked and..."

Nick strode off to find his friend, leaving Blair to let the sentence trail off. Another summons and a muffled female voice drew the smaller man's attention back to the issue at hand.

"Hello? I can hear voices, I know someone is in there."

"Jim?"

"We're both on guard duty." The Sentinel responded, faint amusement now coloring his tone. "You're good to go."

"I'll try to keep whoever it is outside, but I have a nasty feeling that won't work this time." Blair warned them, opening the door just enough to slip through it and shut it behind him. He found himself confronted with a smartly dressed young black woman with a name badge clipped to her pocket. "Miss... Owens. DHHS. I was afraid of that."

"You were?"

"You don't know how much. I was really hoping you were selling cookies. I'd even go for some makeup and skin cleanser..."

"Mr. Stokes..."

"No, sorry. I'm a friend. Blair Sandburg." He corrected, holding out his hand. She shook it with the hand not holding her thick leather case, but the severity in her face never shifted.

"I need to speak to Nick Stokes."

"Again, I'm really sorry, but he can't come to the door... and I don't have permission to let you inside."

"I don't need anyone's permission. I'm here to investigate serious abuse allegations..."

"I get that, I do... Did anyone explain the real situation to you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You were sent here by Greg's doctor, right?"

After a heavy stretch of silence, the woman made a tiny concession.

"Not directly."

"He's completely, totally wrong. Also kinda nuts."

"Excuse me?"

"Can I assume you know what Greg's been through?"

"You can."

"Okay, good. I don't have to repeat it, then. Been enough negative energy thrown around the universe from this already. Having to say it again... major bad karma."

"Mr. Sandburg..."

"I know. Just hang on a second, it'll all make sense, I swear. What you probably weren't told is that Greg's developed agoraphobia. Can't even look at the door if it's open. He had no warning anyone was coming so when you knocked... it scared him to death. He's hiding in a corner of the kitchen right now, with his best friend and *my* best friend both watching over him."

Finally, the woman's expression softened fractionally and a hint of a smile emerged.

"I am aware of his condition, actually."

"Then leave him alone."

"In potential abuse cases, you have to assume everything claimed by the subject of the investigation is a lie... until you see for yourself."

"Look, I work with a cop, I know you can't afford to just believe, but this once..."

"I wish I could."

"You have to come in?"

"I have to. Just for a few minutes."

"Damn... wait here, okay? If I just let you in, you'll have a veteran detective and a CSI in your face the whole time. Trust me, not productive at *all*."

Slipping back into the apartment, Blair walked to within a step or two of the kitchen and spoke quietly. "Sorry, guys, somehow the doctor's convinced Health and Human Services to get into this ridiculous game he's playing."

"No... no way." Greg whimpered, making Nick wrap his arms around his roommate a bit tighter.

"You heard him, Blair. Go tell her no."

Kneeling beside the other two, Jim dropped his chin to his chest and sighed.

"You can't. You know that as well as I do. Once they're in the mess, you have to actually do show and tell to get them out again."

"I don't care." Nick growled. "She said I have to protect him... said he needed me..."

Blair frowned.

"Who said?"

"Not now, Chief." Jim broke in. "Just go let her in. The sooner it starts, the sooner it ends."

When Blair seemed about to argue the plan, Jim glared him into submission. The younger man shrugged and moved back to the door.

"Okay, Miss Owens, you can come in. It may take a while before he feels safe enough to show himself, if he ever does. You're a total stranger to him and these days strangers are threats. Clear?" he demanded as he shut the door and locked it.

"Absolutely. And. Mr Stokes?"

"He can't leave Greg."

"A package deal or nothing. I see."

"No, you don't. You don't get it at all." Jim retorted, appearing and moving to where the pair stood, stopping next to Blair and slipping an arm around his waist. "We've been through this. A while back... someone nearly killed Blair. They forced his head down into the basin of a fountain. He barely survived. For weeks after that it was a struggle to get him out of the apartment. He saw danger everywhere... he was so gun-shy his breathing and pulse went crazy anytime people got too close. Seeing someone *else* drink water made him throw up and then shake for an hour. If I hadn't been able to be with him, right beside him... I don't know what would've happened."

"I understand you're a detective?"

"Major Crimes unit up in Cascade, Washington."

"Then you know what can happen if I don't get to do my job. I'm not here to hurt Mr. Sanders and I'll do my best not to cause him any more anxiety... but he has to tell me himself that the accusations aren't true."

"They're not." Came a small voice from nearer than either Blair or Jim expected. "Can you leave now?"

Studying the way Greg shadowed Nick, reminding her of a bashful child peeking out from behind a parent's legs, Owens became concerned. Perversely, she'd often seen children cling to and defend the abusive figure in their lives and she worried she might be seeing her first adult example of that syndrome.

"I'm afraid I can't, but I'll make this brief, I promise. If you can just answer a few..."

"No!" Greg shouted, shocking everyone, especially Nick, by kicking out fiercely at a nearby wall and suddenly shoving Blair and Jim aside to put himself directly in the young woman's personal space. "I am so sick of this! Denson, the cops... now you! I need to heal, I need to figure stuff out and the only way I can *do* that is to be around my friends and the people I trust! If the world doesn't quit busting in and messing with me... I'm gonna go crazy!"

Seeing Nick move to calm Greg down, Jim lightly gripped the other man's forearm.

"Whoa. He's fine. Just... let him rant for a while. It'll be better in the end if he gets it out instead of holding onto it."

"Blair?"

"Yeah. It wasn't pretty, but it helped. Don't even talk to him, okay? He's more likely to come running back to you for shelter and comfort if he hears your voice. Let him finish this before that happens."

Nick looked back at his love, tightened down on his first, now his most instinctive impulse, and let Greg be.

"Mr. Sanders..."

"No, you... you can't do this to me! You can't just... come in and do anything you want! I'm stopping you! Me, I'm saying you can't! Get out!"

"If I can't talk to you now, there will be more people at the door... people to drag you out into the world and take you somewhere else, for your own safety and well-being."

The thought of anyone forcibly separating them was too much for Nick and it was all Jim could do to hold him back.

"You go after her, Nick, and what's she's threatening becomes reality... and faster than you can imagine."

"The Guide..."

"Guides are strong and wise and brave. To lift us up, to teach us, to face the challenges we bring into their lives... they have to be. Let him show you. Let him see it for himself."

Slowly, Nick relaxed, letting Jim's words sink in.

"We got a hell of a lot to talk about, bud."

"Yeah, we do, but it'll have to wait 'till he boots her back out."

Nick nodded and turned his gaze back on Greg, who had, abruptly and inexplicably, grown calm and grave.

"No." He intoned darkly. "No more. Nick has never hurt me, he never will. If anyone's guilty, it's Denson. He's abusing the system and wasting your time and the *police's* time trying to get something that I have every right to deny him until *I'm* ready. If you still feel like harassing and persecuting somebody after today, I'd love to see you sink your teeth into him."

Eyes wide, the case-worker backed off a step, bewildered as to how the meek, frightened young man she'd witnessed when she arrived could have twice transformed so radically, literally before her eyes. She swiftly decided to take his earlier command to heart and leave the apartment.

"I understand. Thank you for your time, gentlemen."

Greg turned and moved stiffly straight into Nick's waiting arms, while Blair released their unwelcome visitor then secured the door again.

Once in the security and relative peace of her vehicle, the young woman retrieved her cell phone and dialed her office.

"Mick? Yeah... uh-uh. Just trust me, okay? There's something seriously left of center going on with this guy and the people around him... but I really don't think it's abuse."