Title: Cut
Author: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6738
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes. Minor OF/MC
Warnings: AU and v.fluffy!
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Unbeta-ed: All mistakes will be mine.
A/N 1: Yet another old fic.

Gil was walking along the corridor intent on checking some of Bobby’s findings about a bullet casing when he saw Greg walking towards him.

 

“I thought you were at the scene with Catherine, Warrick and Nick?”

 

“I was, but I had to take Nick to the hospital….”

 

“To the hospital?  Why?”  Even as he asked his breathing hitched and he had a tight feeling in his chest…anxiety.  Nick.  Injured.  Dead.  No, Greg’s here acting normally, he won’t be dead.

 

“He’s cut his hand pretty badly.  In fact, they’ve kept him in…they’re going to have to operate to repair the damage.”

 

“What on earth has he done…what damage?”

 

“The scene was booby trapped.  When Nick opened this drawer there was a razor blade attached to a pencil and some sort of elastic flicked it out and it sliced between his middle and ring fingers on his right hand.  The ER doc is pretty sure he’s done some major damage, so they’ve admitted him and when I left he was waiting for a specialist consult, but they had to call her in because she doesn’t work nights.”

 

Gil had stood silently as Greg related the story.  “And you’ve left him at the hospital, alone?”

 

“Well, I didn’t want to, but he insisted, said I should go back to the scene since there were two down.  I just thought it better to detour here first to let you know; it could be pretty serious couldn’t it?   He’s right handed and any motor impairment…well it could mean problems at work…here?”

 

“You’re jumping the gun, Greg.  Which hospital is it?”  Gil would go there immediately.

 

“Desert.  I’ll go back to the scene.”

 

“You do that.”  As Greg turned to leave Gil spoke to him again.  “And Greg, do you know why Catherine didn’t let me know that this had happened?”

”Nick.  It was Nick, said she shouldn’t bother you…he didn’t want me to come here either; he doesn’t know I’ve come.  But I thought you should know.”

 

“Yes.  Yes, I should.”

 

Greg turned on his heel and disappeared around a corner.  Gil stood still.  He was absorbing the information.  Nick injured.  Nick badly injured.  Job threatening injuries.  Didn’t want him informed?  Nick didn’t want him informed?  Why the hell was that, he was the boss, he needed to know when things went wrong. 

 

Gil was confused; why wouldn’t Nick want him told?  Why?  He suddenly roused himself from his thoughts and headed back to his office.  He tidied his desk and closed down his computer, took his jacket and left a message at reception as he left the lab.  He was at Desert Palm Hospital twenty-five minutes later.

 

At reception he discovered that Nick was still in an ER cubicle awaiting the consult.  He found the cubicle, and unable to knock on a curtain, he hesitated, momentarily, before drawing it aside and stepping into the small area. 

 

Nick was lying on a gurney.  He was wearing a hospital gown and had a blanket over his lower body, but, packed with a huge padded dressing, his right hand was suspended in a sling hanging from a frame attached to the gurney.  He looked as if he was asleep.

 

Gil just looked at him.  He looked peaceful and untroubled; his regular features smooth.  He was, Gil thought, just about the most handsome man he’d ever seen.

 

He just looked at him for a few minutes, actually undecided about whether or not to wake him, but the decision was taken from him when Nick suddenly took a big intake of breath and squirmed about on the gurney causing his right hand to move a little in its sling.

 

“Ow.” In an instant Nick was wide awake and looking at his bandaged hand, as if remembering what had happened, and then he saw Grissom.

 

“Gris.”

 

“Nick.  Why didn’t you want me to know?”  No time like the present to actually find out why Nick didn’t want to tell his boss he’d been injured.

 

“Huh, Greg.”  Nick’s face now showed the pain he was in, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes dull.  “I knew he wouldn’t resist telling you.”

 

“That’s not answering the question.”

 

“No.”

 

“So…”  Gil was damned if he’d leave this puzzle unsolved.

 

“Does it matter?  You know now.”

 

“It does matter.  I’m your supervisor and have a duty of care.  You told Catherine and Greg not to tell me.  Let alone that, it’s actually your duty to tell me.”  Gil very rarely lost his temper but for some totally irrational reason he could feel it building up in him and his voice was more strident than it needed to be.

 

“You have a duty of care?  To me?”  It was Nick’s turn to raise his voice.

 

But what caught Gil’s attention was not the loudness of the voice but the incredulity in Nick’s tone at the thought that Gil cared about him.  Gil hesitated for a moment while he processed what Nick had said and more importantly, the way he’d said it, and before he could actually respond, Nick had more to say.

 

“That about sums it up doesn’t it?  You have no answer.  It might be your job, your responsibility, but it doesn’t extend in my direction does it?”

 

Gil was incredulous himself now, but forced himself with some effort to remain calm and keep his voice level, after all, Nick was still injured and in the hospital.

 

“I don’t know where this is coming from, Nick, but of course I care about…about what happens to you.”

 

Nick laughed.  A bitter laugh that sounded all the worse coming from Nick.

 

“Nick, I…” But he was cut off as a doctor, and a woman in casual sweats, came into the cubicle.

 

“Nick, how you doing?  This is the hand specialist, Dr Lydia Jackson.”

 

“Hello Nick, pleased to meet you…is this gentleman staying?” She smiled at both men.

 

“No, he’s just leaving.”

 

“I’ll be just outside, Nick; see you in few minutes.”

 

“There’s no need to wait, I’m okay.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll be okay, but I’m waiting, nevertheless.”

 

Dr Jackson had clearly picked up the chilly atmosphere between the two men and as Gil exited the cubicle he heard Nick say.

 

“He’s my boss.”

 

And the doctor’s response. “Ahhh.”  With a very knowing inflection in her voice.

 

There was no way Gil was leaving this now.  Apart from anything else he did need to know how Nick’s hand was and offer any support he could, regardless of what Nick thought.  And that was the big question.  Why did Nick have such a low opinion of Gil and his ability to care for his staff?

 

Of course, he’d never gone overboard with overt displays of caring.  But that didn’t mean that he didn’t care about them all in his own way…  But then Gil thought back to the few words they’d just exchanged.  It wasn’t his overall caring technique that Nick was questioning, it was specific to Nick.

 

He’d moved into the corridor some feet away from Nick’s cubicle and he could still hear them speaking, but not distinctly.  He heard Nick exclaim in pain a couple of times but after about ten minutes the two doctors left Nick alone.

 

Gil lost no time going back into Nick.  He’d intended to go in all guns blazing, but as soon as he saw Nick he stopped himself.

 

Nick looked as if he was in agony; his hand was out of the sling and resting on his chest. He looked pale and sick.  Gil had immediately thought he was in pain but maybe it was more than that.  Perhaps he’d just been given some bad news.

 

“Has Dr Jackson given you bad news?”

 

“Not really.”  Nick whispered; he’d plainly lost the will to argue with Gil.

 

“What did she say?”

 

Nick looked at Gil as if deciding to tell him or not.  “Not much; she can’t tell exactly what the damage is without operating.  So I’m going to the OR in a couple of hours. I’ll know more after that.”

 

Gil nodded; he really didn’t know what to say.  It was neither good nor bad news. 

 

“I’ll wait with you; it can’t be easy, not knowing, either way.”

 

“There’s no need for you to stay.  It’ll be hours yet.  Don’t disrupt your life, caring for mine.”  So Nick hadn’t forgotten.

 

“Nick?”  Gil was exasperated but did mange to remain calm and not raise his voice.  “Nick, I just don’t know what to say to you.  I do care about what happens to you.  I have no idea why you should think that I don’t.”

 

“Look…that says it all…go home.  I don’t need you; even if I’ve needed you before, I don’t need you now.”

 

“For Christ’s sake.”  Gil started to lose his grip again and he knew it would serve no purpose, but if he was being accused of something it would be nice to know what evidence there was against him.  Why did Nick make him like this?  He tried again after taking a deep breath.  “Okay, I’ll go home, but only on one condition and I mean it; you must tell me why you feel like this.  What is it, Nick?”

 

To his surprise, no, it was to his absolute horror, Nick teared up, his eyes glistened and nearly shed tears were clinging to his eyelashes.  As Nick spoke his voice broke.

 

“Please, please leave me alone.”

 

Gil didn’t know what made him do it but he sprang forward and took Nick’s left hand, which had been cradling his bandaged right hand, and held it between both of his.  Nick let him do it, without protest.

 

“What have I done?  I didn’t mean it, what ever it was, is, I promise I didn’t.”  He whispered as he watched Nick’s tears slip out of his eyes and down the sides of his cheeks to his ears and then onto his pillow.  Gil used one hand to reach over to get a tissue from a box on top of a cupboard.

 

And then Gil wiped at the tears.  “You’ve got wet ears now.”  He smiled down at Nick.

 

Nick nodded.  “Sorry…pain and…”

 

“Yeah; shock and worry, too.”

 

Neither man moved their hands but then Nick looked over at the tissues so Gil let go of Nick’s hand to retrieve a couple and gave them to Nick.  Nick wiped his face and then blew his nose but automatically tried to use his right hand to help do it.

 

“Ahhh.”

 

“Careful.  Have they given you painkillers, Nick?”

 

“Yeah, a shot of morphine after I’d been examined, but it was hours ago.  At least I think it was.”  He made do with a good wipe at his nose and looked around to dump the sodden tissues.  Gil took them from him and threw them in a bin behind Nick.

 

“Shall I see if you can get another shot?”

 

“I’m okay, if I keep it still it only throbs; it only hurts real bad when I try and move it.  It’s actually more comfortable lying here than in the sling.  The Doc said I could leave it out of the sling as long as I keep it still, so it’s my fault.”

 

“Not your fault.  It’s a reflex action to use both hands when you’re used to using both hands for something.  You were asleep when I arrived, do you think you could fall asleep again?  The time would pass more quickly.”

 

“Don’t know.  You gonna read me a bedtime story?”

 

“I can certainly be relied upon to go into lecture mode, if that would help?”

 

“Probably.”  Nick smiled a little smile.

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

 

Gil looked around and saw a stool in the corner.  He retrieved it and sat on it, and then leaned his elbows on Nick’s gurney.

 

“Greg said it was a booby trapped drawer.  What a bastard to do that.  I sometimes think I’ve seen everything, but actually I think I’ve only scratched the surface.”

 

“Yeah.  I think he did it to protect his stuff…he had credit cards and a load of cells in there…now all covered in my blood.  It happened so fast I didn’t realise at first, I just saw all the blood and wondered where it had come from, and then the pain started.  I contaminated the evidence…”

 

“…for fuck’s sake, don’t worry about that.”

 

Nick stared at Gil; he’d never heard him swear before.

 

“What?  Never heard me swear before?”   Gil smiled.  “I can swear up a storm when I want to, although not generally at work.”

 

“My parents forbade swearing of any kind and I got into the habit of swearing under my breath, but of course Daddy knew what I was doing and I had privileges revoked for that.  And once we were watching a Cowboys game on TV and they missed an easy catch and I screamed out, ‘fucking hell’, in front of all my family…Momma and the girls.  I got into serious shit for that, I can tell you.”

 

Gil laughed.  “Serious shit?  You learned that lesson well!”

 

“Well I’m all growed up now and I don’t live anywhere near Dallas.”

 

“Do you miss it?”

 

“Sometimes.  It’s a big family and, you know, I was…you don’t want to hear this.”

 

“I do.  Honestly, I do.  I’m an only child and would have loved siblings…”

 

“…six of them?”

 

“Maybe not that many, but a brother to play with and a sister to look after, you know?”

 

“But they don’t stay kids forever though, do they?  And then there are the fights over who has what, who’s first in the pecking order…I was always last.”

 

“The youngest?”

 

“By a long way…the accident.”

 

“Half the children in America are accidents.”

 

“I’m making it sound worse than it was but when I left home for college I was the one that fitted in easily…used to sharing space and bathrooms.  No problems, man.”

 

“And that was a problem for me.  I had to share during my first year and I’d never shared a bedroom or bathroom with anyone.  And, of course, they paired me up with the loudest student they could possibly find.  He was actually a great roomie, but God, he was noisy.”

 

“That was the very best thing about getting my own place, first in Dallas and then here…the quiet.”

 

“Why did you leave Dallas, if you had peace and quiet there?”

 

Nick hesitated, and then sighed.  “Lots of reasons.  Not just one.”

 

“You’re not going to share then?”  Gil was amused, he never shared and he wasn’t expecting Nick to.

 

But Nick was on the defensive immediately.  “No. I’m not.  Trying to lull me into a false sense of security…”

 

“…I was joking, lame, I know, but I don’t share and I wasn’t expecting you to either.”  Gil could have kicked himself; they’d been fine until he’d tried to be funny.

 

Nick was quiet for a few minutes.  Gil just sat there and waited.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

 

“About before too, it’s not you, not really, it’s me.”

 

“I won’t deny I want to get to the bottom of it, but let’s wait until you‘re better.   I must have done something and I’ve…  But we’re okay now aren’t we?”

 

Nick nodded.  He looked to Gil as if he was sleepy and Gil picked up his left hand again and gently rubbed the back of it with his thumb.  Nick’s eyes drooped and then closed and he was soon breathing evenly.

 

Gil watched over him, bemused at himself for being bold enough to take, and hold, Nick’s hand.

 

He found Nick very attractive, but he would never make a move on him for myriad reasons.  Not least that he was his supervisor.  And the even bigger problem that Nick was straight…as an arrow. 

 

He smiled a sad little smile to himself; Nick got himself into some scrapes.  He was nearly killed by Crane, not once, but twice.  He slept with that prostitute, and if it hadn’t been for Catherine he could have found himself on Death Row.  Christ…that was another instance of how lax Conrad Ecklie was; fucking good job he wasn’t in the field any more.

 

Nick sighed in his sleep and was trying to move but Gil held his hand a little tighter and whispered to him.  “Shhhh, go back to sleep.”  And he did.  Gil chuckled, but very quietly.

 

He thought about Crane again, it was Warrick and Brass who’d helped Nick through that.  And the prostitute, whose name he’d forgotten, Hopkins?  It was Catherine who’d saved his ass that time.  He furrowed his brow and thought about what he’d done about the two cases…what he’d done for Nick.  He couldn’t remember.  He actually couldn’t remember doing anything, at all.  But he always kept his distance from Nick, it felt safer that way.

 

He looked at Nick as he slept, and wondered if that was Nick’s problem.  Gil had been busy trying to solve the Crane case, but hadn’t paid much attention to Nick, he watched the videos and was so pissed with Crane, he could have killed him with his own bare hands, but he’d never told Nick, or anyone else for that matter.

 

With the prostitute he’d been pissed at Nick.  Really pissed at his behaviour, but Catherine had told him that Nick believed she was leaving the business.  What had Nick said?  That she was hot and they had a connection?

 

He shook his head at the irony.  If only Nick knew how hot he was and how much Gil wanted to connect to him… 

 

Gil must have dropped off to sleep himself because the next thing he knew a man in scrubs was gently shaking his shoulder.

 

“Sorry…must have dropped off.”

 

“No problem, but I have to ask Mr. Stokes some questions before surgery.”

 

Nick was waking up as he spoke and his brow immediately furrowed into a frown.

 

“Nick, I’ve been asleep too.  This doctor…”  Gil raised his eyebrows at the man and he nodded.  “…has come to ask you some questions before surgery.”

 

“Okay.  It really hurts now.”  His breathing was shallow and tiny beads of sweat appeared on his upper lip and forehead.  It wasn’t even warm in the cubicle so Gil surmised that Nick’s pain had really escalated.  Nick held onto the bandages with his left hand, as if a death grip would help ease the pain.

 

“I’m going to be your anaesthetist for your operation, and after a quick exam I’ll be able to give you something for that…a painkiller.  Is your…friend staying with you?”

 

Nick nodded, but then looked at Gil.

 

“You’ll stay?”

 

“Of course.”

 

The doctor then proceeded to do the routine pre-op checks.  When he asked about previous operations Nick shook his head.

 

“Never had an op at all, or an anaesthetic?”

 

“No.  Only local…when I broke my wrist and they manipulated it back into shape…and when I cut my knee…twice, same knee...and some other stuff.”

 

Gil was amazed.  “Never?  Still got your tonsils and appendix then?”

 

“Still got everything I was born with, just about everything, anyway...” He managed a wan smile.

 

“You’ve been lucky, Mr Stokes, and your luck continues because we’re not using a general anaesthetic today either.”

 

“I’m lucky?”

 

“Yep.  We use a powerful local anaesthetic and it will numb your entire arm while Lydia operates.  Depending on the time it takes we may need to top it up, although that’s very unlikely.  You’ll still be monitored like normal.  That’s all from me; I’ll write up your pain meds and get one of the nurses to put a cannula in your back of your left hand.  Any questions?”

 

“How long will it take? The op.”

 

“I can’t be certain, I haven’t seen your injury but maybe an hour, don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing and Lydia’s the best.  Okay?”

 

Nick thanked him and then Gil was alone with him again.

 

Now Nick looked worried.  “Will you stay with me…please?  I’m not a baby, it’s just the…”

 

“…fear of the unknown, I know.  Don’t worry I’ll stay with you the whole time…until they throw me out.  And I’ll be here when you come out of the OR.” 

 

“Will you?  Honestly?”

 

“I said so, didn’t I?”

 

A nurse arrived at that moment and she inserted the cannula; it was expertly done in less than a minute.  She then administered the pain meds through it.  She annotated his chart and then leaned over him. 

 

“They’ll come and get you in about fifteen minutes; you okay, honey?”

 

“Yes, I am now, thank you; I can feel the drug working already.”

 

“It’s the good stuff; you’ll probably be asleep before they come for you.  When you leave the OR you’ll go to a room, so I won’t see you, but good luck, honey.”

 

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

 

“You’re a sweetie.  We don’t see many in this ER!”  She laughed and left.

 

“Sweetie, eh?  Always a good move to sweeten up the nurses.”

 

“I’m not a sweetie, I’m just good mannered.”  Nick sounded very drowsy.  “You promise you’ll stay?”

 

“I promise.”

 

“I was real nasty to you and I’m real sorr…”  Nick couldn’t finish as he fell asleep.

 

Gil leaned over and very gently ran his fingers over Nick’s relaxed face. He rubbed his thumb along his cheek bone.  But he pulled his hand back, as if it’d been burned.  He was tormenting himself.  He was here as Nick’s supervisor, that was all.

 

He sat down on his stool and waited.

 

It wasn’t long, certainly less than fifteen minutes when two orderlies came to take Nick to the OR.

 

“I said I’d keep him company, so may I walk with you?”

 

“Sure, but he looks out of it.”

 

“I know, but I promised.”

 

“Okay, only to the doors of the OR.”

 

“Yes, I realise.”

 

So Gil accompanied Nick on his gurney right to the door of the OR and then he leaned against the wall for a couple of minutes deciding what to do.  There wasn’t time to go home and then get back before Nick’s operation would be over.  It was nearly seven, so Catherine would probably be back at the lab.  He had switched off his cell, not wanting to be disturbed while he was with Nick.  So he decided to go outside, walk around and look for some place to grab something to eat, and call a few people.

 

The sun was already bright and the day hot as he emerged from the hospital.  He knew there was a small café somewhere by the hospital.

 

He saw it across the car lot and started to walk towards it and then remembered to switch on his cell.  It buzzed immediately, he had Voicemail. 

 

He listened to them.  Catherine – two.  Greg – one.  Warrick – one.  Sara – three.  Ecklie – one.  He was at the café as he finished listening.

 

He called Ecklie first; he was the boss and needed to be kept informed.  That was okay.

 

He called Catherine next.  She was concerned and apologetic about not informing him about Nick’s injury, but Nick had been adamant and after that she’d been too busy with two men down to have the time to do it.  She knew that Greg had told him and that he’d gone to the hospital.  Gil told her that she should still have informed him, and she agreed.  He left it at that.

 

He spoke to Warrick and Greg and told them what was happening, telling them to go home and sleep and maybe they could visit with Nick later. 

 

He drank a coffee and ate a croissant.  He still had to call Sara, but he needed some fortification beforehand.  She’d called him twice about her case and her annoyance that he wasn’t at the lab to discuss it with her when she’d fully expected him to be there…she’d dealt with a murder alone.  As an afterthought her third call was about Nick.

 

Gil had another coffee and croissant before he called her back.  He discussed the case and told her to go home and deal with it on her next shift.  They had the murderer in custody and a full confession.  He wasn’t going anywhere soon, even if he lawyered up.

 

He didn’t mention Nick to her, in some kind of perverse act he was waiting for her to mention him first, to see if she did remember that a colleague was injured and in the hospital.  It was ironic that of all of the team, Nick treated Sara the best, he had more patience with her than the others, and even managed to calm her down a little.  Now, when the chips were down for Nick, she was still too absorbed in herself and her work and her life that she forgot to remember him.

 

Gil ended the call abruptly, suddenly tired of her need for his constant validation.  Her awkward crush on him.  He should tell her he’s gay, it wasn’t a secret, just not well known.  Catherine knew, but he doubted she’d tell anyone.  He didn’t actually know who else knew.  Ecklie?  Maybe.  Maybe he should be out and proud, but it wasn’t his style, never had been.  He liked his privacy.

 

His cell started ringing again and it was Sara.  Had she remembered Nick?  Should he answer?  Yes.  He wanted to know.

 

“Grissom.”

 

“It’s Sara.  Do you know how Nick is?”

 

“Not really, he’s still in the OR.”

 

“I don’t know if he’ll be able to do his job, Greg says it’s a very invasive injury and he’s right handed, it’s going to make his job impossible.”

 

“You’re writing him off and he’s still in the OR.  You and Greg expert orthopaedic surgeons now?”

 

“No, but from what Greg saw and what he’s told me it’s a very serious injury and the ER doctor wanted a consult with a specialist.”

 

“She’s operating right now.  I gotta go.”  He snapped his cell shut and switched it off.

 

It had been nearly an hour, so he paid his check and walked back to the hospital and made his way to the floor with the ORs.

 

He asked a passing nurse if she could find out the status of Nick Stokes.  She came back a few minutes later.

 

“He’s still in the OR and Dr Jackson thinks it will be about another fifteen minutes.”

 

“Thank you.  Could I ask…do you know where they’ll take him when they finish.  He’s only having a local…will he still needed to go into recovery?”

 

“Yes he will.  They monitor for up to an hour, usually.  But I’ll check for you.

 

She returned again after a few minutes.  “Yes, he’ll stay in here and then be transferred to the day care unit and be discharged after he’s been assessed.”

 

“Discharged?  I hadn’t realised.”

 

“He’s not sick and the injury is being repaired.  He’ll be given instructions about what to do.”

 

“Thank you, you’ve been very patient with me.”

 

“You’re welcome.  Oh, and the day care unit is one floor below and you can wait for him there.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Gil had been taken aback that Nick would be discharged almost immediately but what the nurse had said made sense.  His hand was injured, he wasn’t sick.

 

But he would be incapacitated.

 

As he rode the elevator down one floor he contemplated what he should do.  He knew what he really shouldn’t do, but Nick would need some help, at least for a few days.

 

He should not invite Nick into his home. 

 

But as the doors opened onto the new floor he’d made up his mind.  He would invite Nick to recuperate, at least for the day, at his place.  It would be up to Nick whether or not he accepted.  Maybe Nick would want Warrick or Greg to take care of him; after all they were far closer to Nick than he was.

 

But Gil felt responsible.  He was being ridiculous and he knew it, but after Nick’s tirade, (for Nick it was a tirade) at him earlier it was as if he needed to somehow make amends.  It was ridiculous.  Inviting a hot, sexy and young man into his home when he was not hot, not sexy and not young.  But, by God, he was hot for Nick.

 

He despaired at his middle-aged idiocy.

 

Gil wondered towards a nurses’ station.

 

“Excuse me.  Nick Stokes is upstairs at the moment undergoing surgery but he will, if everything goes okay, be discharged and I’ve been told to wait here.”

 

The nurse looked at her computer and pressed a few keys.  “Yeah, that’s right, he’s due down here in…an hour, give or take.  You can wait or come back…there are coffee and snacks machines in the waiting room.”

 

“Thanks.  I’ll go for a walk, get some fresh air.”

 

There were some gardens at the back of the hospital where staff and patients could get a break from the hospital.  Gil ambled around and took in the beauty of the well cared for gardens.  But really, his thoughts were centred on Nick.

 

One thing that he’d been putting off thinking about was what if the damage to Nick’s hand was permanent and disabling?  Quite of a few of their forensic procedures needed precise movement.  Not least lifting prints.  It could be a problem, not insurmountable, but it would probably mean a change of duties.

 

Gil stopped in his tracks.  He was already envisioning worst case scenario and Nick wasn't even out of surgery yet.  He was getting as bad as Greg and Sara.  He would face it with Nick, if it happened, not before.  He would think positive thoughts; he smiled at the very thought of that...Catherine would never believe him.  But there again, he’d never tell her.

 

He sat on a bench for a few minutes and turned his face to the sun.  It felt good and he could have stayed there…but mindful that he could fall asleep, and that Nick was expecting him to be there for him, he heaved himself to his feet and made his way back to the waiting room.

 

He bought a cup of coffee and almost instantly regretted it, it was ridiculous to expect machine manufactured coffee in a plastic cup to actually taste like coffee.  He still drank it though, and made sure that his seat had a view of the elevator.

 

People came and went, but twenty minutes into his waiting, when he was fidgeting to make sure he stayed awake, the doors slid open and Nick was wheeled out on his gurney.

 

Gil was at his side in moments.

 

“Hey.”  He spoke as he walked alongside the gurney.

 

“Hey, back at ya…”  Nick managed but he was very groggy.

 

His right arm was held in a sling against his chest and the bandages on his hand must have been at least an inch thick, with just the tips of his fingers poking out.

 

The orderlies took him to a bed and transferred him across to it from the gurney, as if he was weightless.  Then Gil had to stand back as two nurses came to attend to him. Was he thirsty, was he hungry?

 

“Need a pee.”

 

“Do you think you could manage to walk to the restroom?  You should get up as soon as you can.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”  Although Gil thought he was just trying to please the nurses…his good manners.

 

One of the nurses helped him move around and put his feet on the floor.  She slipped some flimsy hospital slippers on his feet and then…a commotion broke out at the end of the long room with a couple shouting at one another.

 

Gil took hold of Nick’s arm.  “I‘ll help him, you go read them the riot act.”  One nurse was already on her way and the second nurse smiled and left Nick with Gil.

 

“Are you sure you can do this, Nick. You look a bit spaced out to me.”

 

“Yeah, feel it, man.  I feel real weird…all my arm and part of my shoulder is numb and I can’t feel it except that I can…it feels so heavy I can hardly hold it up.”

 

Gil looked at him comically.  He really was out of it if he didn’t realise it was in a sling and securely held against his chest.

 

“It’s in a sling, Nick.”

 

“Mmmm, I know but it feels weird.”

 

“Okay.  Restroom…over there.”  Gil walked alongside Nick with his hand around his left bicep.  He had a quick look behind to see if Nick’s ass was hanging out of the hospital gown he was wearing.  He was okay, it was securely tied.

 

When they reached the men’s restroom Gil held the door open and followed Nick in; Nick positioned himself somewhat unsteadily by a stall and Gil stood back.  But Nick couldn’t stand up on his own and use his left hand to hold up his gown and pull open his boxer briefs.  He tried for a minute and then looked back at Gil, and nearly toppled over doing so.  Gil launched himself up behind Nick and stopped him swaying.

 

“Can’t get it out and I’m gonna piss myself if I don’t go soon.”  Nick sounded so forlorn at his predicament that Gil chuckled.

 

“Okay.  Okay, this is what I’ll do…I’ll hold your gown, and you, up and pull your underpants down and you do the business with your left hand…can you manage that?”

 

“Yeah.”  Nick chuckled too.

 

Nick leaned back on Gil but he managed, and let out a relieved sigh as he emptied his bladder.  When he’d finally finished he chuckled again.  “I wanted to go before I had the operation.”

 

Gil adjusted his clothing and helped him to the sink. “You stay there a minute because I've got to go now, and then I can wash your hands, hand, for you.”

 

“Okay…power of suggestion.”

 

“True.”

 

When Gil had finished he went back to the sink and washed his hands and then soaped them up again and took hold of Nick’s left hand and soaped it and washed it thoroughly and then rinsed it under the tap.  As he finished he caught sight of Nick in the mirror above the sink…Nick looking spaced out, but oh so fuckable…

 

“There you are.”  The nurse popped her head around the door.  “Dr Jackson is here and wants to speak to you.”

 

“We’re coming.  Had a bit of a logistical problem.”  The nurse disappeared and Gil pulled two towels out of the dispenser and wiped his own hands and then Nick’s hand.  Nick smiled at him, his drowsy eyes almost like liquid chocolate, and his lips moist and plump...begging to be kissed.

 

Gil’s eyes locked onto those kissable lips and he swallowed, audibly.

 

“Wanna kiss me?”  Nick drawled, his voice almost but not quite slurred and his body still swaying minutely.

 

Gil jumped back as if he’d been hit.  “Wwwhat?”  He stuttered.

 

“Just looked to me like you wanted to kiss me, is all.”  Even in his state, or maybe because of it, there was no denying the seductive tone of his voice.

 

“And if I did?”

 

“I’ll think about it.  The Doc?”

 

“The Doc?  Oh, yes, the doctor, come on.”

 

This time instead of holding Nick’s arm he slipped his arm around his waist and Nick leaned into him.

 

Gil walked as if he was in a dream world, as if he’d just become divorced from reality.  Only a gay or bi man would behave like Nick just did.  A momentary lapse on his own part and a straight guy would have ignored him or may even have hit him, and certainly wouldn’t be cosying up to him in a public place.  Even if he was full of morphine and God knows what else.  And it was in a public bathroom, a fucking public toilet!  The irony was of that was not lost on Gil.

 

They arrived at Nick’s bedside and Gil helped him into bed.  Dr Jackson arrived at his bedside moments later.  She was smiling and Gil was immediately very hopeful.

 

“How are you feeling, Nick.”

 

“A bit strange, to be truthful.”

 

“That’ll be the drugs.  Do you want your boss to leave?”

 

“No, he can stay; can’t you?”

 

Gil smiled.  “I can.”

 

“Okay.  You became a little restless in the OR and we needed to keep you absolutely still so we added a sedative to the morphine you’d already had.  You’ll be fine in a few hours.”  She smiled again.

 

“The good news is that although the cut was deep it miraculously missed doing anything too bad.  Your blood loss was because the razor had cut a blood vessel, but your own clotting process had quickly sealed it, but we’ve glued it back together, to make sure it’s sealed for good.  The tendon had been shaved, just slightly and I left well alone. Nerve damage, I think, has been avoided because I couldn’t find any sign of damage.  It may be that is was moved, more than normal, by the tendon damage and that caused the problems identified in the ER.  Do you remember that when I asked you to move your fingers after I’d finished you could move all of them quite freely?”

 

“Yeah, I do…vaguely.”

 

She laughed.  “Here are your instructions and prescription for painkillers and antibiotics…” She laid the two pieces of paper on his bed. “…and I expect you to follow them rigidly.  Your hand needs to rest and recover from the trauma.  Basically: completely rest it for seventy-two hours.  Keep your hand completely immobilised and in the sling, day and night, and I know it’ll be uncomfortable in bed but you could do damage in your sleep if you don’t.  For the following seventy two hours take you arm out of the sling regularly and move you arm and shoulder around to exercise them but try and keep your hand still.  Leave your bandages in place.

 

And on the seventh day you come back here and see me.  We’ll take the bandages off and see how it’s going.  But, I am very pleased with how my work went and I’d be surprised if you don’t achieve a hundred percent recovery but even so it won’t be any less than ninety-five percent and you will easily compensate for that.  That’s it, Nick.  Any questions?”

 

“No.  I can’t think.  Gris?”

 

“No, thank you, you’ve made that very clear.”

 

“Oh, you’re Gris…okay, I thought you were his boss; Nick wanted you with him while he was undergoing the procedure, that was just before we gave him the sedative.  How long have you been together?”

 

Luckily for Nick she was looking at Gil when she spoke and missed his horrified expression.  Gil, ever the master of a poker face, recovered in a nanosecond.

 

“Not long…but…long enough.  I am his boss…as well.”  He was nearly recovered.

 

“I hope you’ll be very happy.  My brother married his partner last year.”

 

“Great.  Yes.  Great.”

 

Nick had recovered and was watching Gil and then spoke.  “We’re not quite ready to take that step, are we, babe?”

 

“Errr…no, no we’re not…yet, sweetheart.”

 

“Good luck; see you next week and follow those instructions.” 

 

Gil got in first.  “Oh, he will, believe me.”  Dr Jackson smiled and left.

 

Nick lay back on his bed.  “I’m so tired.”  He closed his eyes.

 

“Ohhh…no you don’t.  I want a few answers before you get to sleep.”

 

“You were the one who wanted to kiss me.”

 

“That’s beside the point; what I’m interested in is why you were so angry at me and why you didn’t want me to know you were in the hospital?”

 

“Oh, that.”

 

“Yes that.  Come on.”

 

“I really like you, I mean I really like you.  But you’ve virtually ignored me, fawning over Sara and Greg and thinking Warrick is great.  I’m not saying he isn’t, but you never treated me as well…ever, and I thought you just didn’t like me at all.  But now I know the truth, so I forgive you.  God, I am tired, gotta sleep.”

 

“You know what?  Forgive me what?”

 

“I think you really like me and you’ve been deliberately keeping your distance, because you didn’t know I was gay, did you?  I’m right aren’t I?  But I am gay.  Now can I go to sleep?”

 

“Yes, you’re right.  Go to sleep.  Hold on.”  Nick could barely open his eyes.

 

“Will you come back to my place and let me take care of you, at least until the bandages are off?”

 

“Yeah…okay.  Please let me sleep.”

 

“Okay.  Sweetheart.”  Gil kissed his fingers and then pressed them gently to Nick’s lips, and Nick smiled as he slipped into his drug induced sleep.  Though Gil was inclined to think that although Nick was very sleepy he was far more lucid than he had at first appeared, regardless of the morphine and the sedative.

 

Gil pulled up a chair and sat down and then he smiled too, as he fell asleep.

 

The End