Title: Vegas after Dark
By: anmani
Summary: Detective Vartann finds his simple case of bashing escalating fast and includes CSI Stokes and Sanders in his investigation.
Beta: Serenity. Icon and banner by dagdrommer.
Characters: Nick, Greg, Warrick, Catherine, other, Sophia
Genres: angst, action, case file
Rating: NC17
Warnings: violence

Detective Vartann and CSI Johnson followed the nurse taking them to another set of victims. The call had said that two young men had been attacked upon leaving a hotel. Not much to go on and nothing unusual about it either, not in the City of Sin. The nurse drew back the curtain and motioned for them to step closer.

"Hi I'm Detective Vartann and this is CSI Johnson, we're here to take your statement regarding the attack you reported Mr. Billington."

"Call me Adam, and this is Simon, the guy I was with… when…. when…" He stalled, the memory obviously still very raw.

Vartann took the chair next to the bed that Simon vacated for his benefit. The two men were clearly members of the gay scene in Las Vegas; he even thought he recognized Simon from one club or another. Adam had clearly suffered the worst and was already hooked up to an IV, whereas Simon just had his arm in a sling.

"Hello Simon. I need you tell me what happened. But take it easy and relax. CSI Johnson here will see if he can find any trace evidence on the clothes that you wore when it happened."

The two young men began to tell their story and the CSI busied himself with his swabs. Vartann scribbled down some notes as they told him how they'd met up at a club and decided on taking their business to a nearby hotel, since neither lived alone. He had them describe the hotel room just to take their minds of the next event for a little while longer. Simon kept darting glances at him as if not quite sure where they'd seen each other before. Johnson worked like a well oiled machine without passion. Vartann preferred the CSIs of the nightshift, they just seemed more passionate and dedicated to their jobs than those slaving away on dayshift.

"We left the room at 5.45 am; you have to be out by 6. I was checking my cell for any texts from my sister and I have the time as a screensaver." Adam sighed deeply and closed his eyes forcefully.

"I'd offered Adam a lift and we headed for the car park around the back that's mostly used for the club. Anyway it's kinda dark and all of a sudden these guys are knocking us over." Simon's voice had lost its previous calm.

"The more you can tell me, the better chance we have of finding them."

Adam opened his eyes and stared blankly out into nothing. "One of them wore a real tacky aftershave. I don't know what's it called, but it made me nauseous."

"I remember a ring; you know the kind that footballers and frat boys wears. Big… clumsy, with an insignia of sorts." added Simon.

CSI Johnson indicated that he was done and had only found a few fibers. Adam still had that blank look on his face.

"Caterpillar, he wore Caterpillar work boots. Same ones my Dad has for his construction crew." Adam blinked and focused on him.

"Anything else, do you recall what kind of clothing?" Vartann knew to be careful not to suggest any types of garments. Witnesses could only too easily be convinced of what they saw.

"Not really, I mean it was dark and the boot… I remember that because I was clinging onto it, so he couldn't kick me too hard." Adam had more than enough bruises showing to confirm his story.

"They didn't say anything." Simon had closed his eyes. "They were silent, I've …. I've been attacked before and that guy was busy calling me names at the same time. But these were quiet."

"Yeah, yeah they didn't say a thing. Ginny told me about some guys being bashed a few weeks back by some mute or something like that." Adam sounded more enthusiastic now that it was gossip he was sharing.

The two young men began dishing up rumors about recent bashings and Vartann noted a few of the more interesting details. The CSI tried not to look impatient but failed, much to Vartann's great irritation, even the energy ball Sanders would have behaved better. In fact, he mused, Sanders would probably have connected with the victims on a whole other level. Eventually a nurse came to take Simon to have his arm X-rayed. Satisfied that they couldn't tell him more, Vartann left with the feeling that he'd only seen the tip of the iceberg.

~*~

"Thank you Mr. Reynolds." Sofia closed her notebook. "It would help the investigation if your friend would come forward though."

"I know ma'am, but he ain't out and I don't think that he ever will be." A shaking hand accepted her calling card. "I'll try and talk to him."

"In cases like yours, Mr. Reynolds there's often not much to go on so anything more would help." Sofia looked up at Nick who shook his head lightly.

"I know ma'am, I just wanted it on the record you know. I study statistics and reporting crimes like this is important even though I know that it being solved is highly unlikely."

Sofia looked at the young man in the hospital bed; he was in his early twenties and apart from blue eyes bore a great resemblance to Greg. Nick shook hands with the latest victim in the ever recurring gay bashings and she followed suit, leaving the young man with an apologizing smile.

"Hey Sofia, I need a ride now that Sara had to leave early." Nick's embarrassment only made him cuter than normal and she had to slap herself mentally to not act out of character.

"Sure. I have to catch up with Catherine anyways; the Peters case is coming up for trial so we're going to review it."

They talked about general gay issues on the way back and Sofia felt a growing confidence building between them. Not to a degree where she would reveal her sexuality to Nick, but he did appear to be gay-friendly if not gay. Before Ecklie backstabbing her and moving her to graveyard she'd only heard rumors about Nick's preferences. There'd been a hooker, but apart from that nothing public which had led to speculations around the lab. His friendship with Greg was probably the source that fuelled the fire the most.

Once back at the lab Nick quickly disappeared and left her to find Catherine alone. Sofia tried to get her mind on the right track, but the blue eyed victim kept haunting her mind. Lost in her thoughts she didn't notice Detective Vartann until she bumped into him by the board.

"Are you so uninterested in men that you don't see us at all?" asked Vartann, notorious for his fast lines.

"Oops sorry, I … guess I was lost in thought there." apologized Sofia and flashed him a quick smile. "What are you doing here, weren't you supposed to be in Mesquite on that hit and run?"

"Been there done that. The idiot tried to ram an 18 wheeler shortly after. Not much of a case really."

"Some people! You looking for someone?" Sofia hadn't failed to notice that he kept glancing at the board.

"Yeah the right tool."

"And who that might be?" she asked, laughing.

"Sanders. Do you know how far Brass is with that double homicide at the Palermo?"

"Nope, but Greg's car was sitting in the lot when I came in just now." Sofia's curiosity was piqued now. "What do you need him for anyways?"

"I'm working on a bashing case and I need someone a twink will feel comfortable with, someone who's not Johnson." said Vartann, emphasizing the last part.

"I've just come back from a bashing." Sofia did nothing to hide her irritation. "But at least I had Nick with me."

"Lucky you, where did it go down?"

Sofia flipped open her notebook to make sure all the details were correct. A few seconds later Vartann held his notebook up next to hers. There it was, the same club, the same hotel, the same weekday, even the same room number.

She looked up and met Vartann's eyes, seeing that he knew just as well as she did. "Let's find a computer and see how many more there are." suggested Sofia.

Vartann nodded in agreement and followed her into the A/V lab that was surprisingly empty.

It didn't take long before a very clear pattern stood out. Two young smooth-looking men would take a room at the hotel, the same room for all the cases they'd found so far. The day was always Saturday, early morning between 3am and 6am. At first she had thought that it also was the same club, but then two cases had come up with a different club in the nearby area. Sofia leaned back, closed her eyes and summarized in her head.

Two young gay men, or twinks in Vartann speak, would hook up and go to the hotel in question and get a room.
All had gotten room 437 and left between 3am and 6am.
Then once they were in the back alley leading to a much used parking lot they'd been attacked.
The attackers were silent.
One wore work boots and most likely workman's trousers as well.
The other had been described as the jeans type, wearing a big ring.

"Not much to conclude from this." said Vartann as he tapped the keyboard pensively.

"You can say that again. Maybe if we interview all the victims once more." Sofia knew she didn't really have time for a case this big. "Maybe something else will pop up."

"Maybe, but twinks can be…" Vartann sighed deeply. "Some serious airheads on occasion."

"Well, the guy that I just talked to had brains for sure and with this angle…"

"What's up?" asked Archie coming in balancing various caffeinated beverages.

"A case that went from one incident to a series of bashings in minutes." stated Sofia.

"And just how does that involve my lab and my chair?" asked Archie who had bags under his eyes revealing how many hours of sleep he hadn't got lately.

"It doesn't. We just needed to verify a suspicion. Your lab just happened to be vacant." Vartann got up while still focusing on the screen.

~*~

Vartann went in search of Greg after promising Sofia that he would take the lead on this case, knowing full well that her case load was bigger than his at the moment. He had less than a week to find the perpetrators or risk that two more gay men would get a beating. Two options were already clear, one to have surveillance on the spot next Saturday and two to have a couple go undercover. Both had drawbacks, but something had to be done. It simply wasn't right that some people couldn't accept and respect the choice of others.

His search was soon rewarded with a goofy smiling Greg; flirting his head off with someone unseen to him.

"Hey Sanders, you available for a case?"

"Ehm, I've got paperwork to do, but otherwise I'm free."

"Can someone else do that paperwork?" asked Vartann, wanting to get things moving.

"Well Warrick led the case, but I don't think…"

"Think again. I need you. He can still type can't he?" Vartann fought an internal battle to keep his cool.

"Yeah, but I…" Greg hesitated when he saw said man approaching them.

"Hey Brown." Vartann turned his focus to Warrick Brown. "I need Greg for a case now. So no paperwork for him."

"He's not to go solo yet." reminded Warrick with a frown.

"He won't. Nick's working this one too. But it's getting big and I need Greg." Without waiting for an answer he motioned for Greg to follow.

"I thought Nick was working with Sara and Sofia?" Greg sounded as eager as Vartann expected.

"Same case and I've taken over from Curtis; she's got enough open cases as it is. Nick's got some lab work right now and we've got some twinks to interview."

"Oh nice, good looking boys without brains!" said Greg, plastering on a very fake smile.

"OK so maybe not perfect twinks. They haven't been that brainless, those that I've talked to so far." Vartann couldn't help but smile at the fact that Greg knew, of course, what a twink was.

Vartann quickly brought Greg up to date on the case. The smile on Greg's face faded as he revealed the details and eventually Greg had his arms wrapped around himself. That only served to confirm Vartann's suspicion about Greg's sexual preferences and he wondered if Grissom deliberately chose employees with alternative lifestyles. But then, he argued, it might just be that Greg had been bashed once and therefore reacted strongly to the case.

"One thing's for sure Detective, you wanna dress down before we leave. Don't wanna scare the pretty boys now, do we?" Apart from a slight waver in Greg's voice the previous uneasiness had vanished.

"Nope." chuckled Vartann following Greg to the locker room.

~*~

Nick stared at the meager evidence sitting on the layout table. Sofia had given him a speedy introduction to the other similar cases and he'd pulled what little evidence had been submitted. The few hairs and fibers more surprised than disappointed him. From his experience going to a club was like applying a thick layer of lotion before rolling around on the floor in a cattery. Sweaty people dancing and browsing for a partner was usually a guarantee for transferral of a lot of material.

Still it would be a long day comparing fiber after fiber hoping for a match, but Nick set to work with dedication. Hate crimes were usually harder to solve than straight up murders in his experience. But all victims deserved the time of day, no matter what. Besides, Nick mused, Sofia had made it pretty clear that she was gay and wanted this case solved. The fiber under the microscope looked like it had belonged to a red fake silk shirt. Idly his mind tried to picture the man having worn it on a hot night out.

A deep sigh escaped him as he tried to banish thoughts inappropriate for work. His fascination of men could easily put an end to his career if he got caught in a compromising situation. His mother had warned him back when she'd discovered him and Johnny kissing in the tool shed. At least women were attractive to him, so shying away from men had been fairly easy for many years. Moving on to the next sample Nick refocused and slowly worked his way through categorizing the evidence.

Eventually Nick had found one recurring fiber. Four of the cases had a black denim-like thread in common. After consulting a database he learned that it stemmed from a very common type of workman's trousers. So common in fact that it would be useless trying to trace it through the retailers. Noting his findings Nick packed the evidence away. Technically his shift was over, but the case consisted of so far seven separate case files leaving it difficult to find your way through it. Checking his watch Nick decided on clocking in some extra hours to put order to the mess. First off he wanted a timeline so he could compare the severity of the attacks, worried that they might be escalating.

Greg followed Vartann up the few steps to the front porch of a respectable house in a respectable neighborhood. The detective had transformed into a fairly relaxed but still fashionable look like it was nothing. In fact so easily that Greg couldn't purge the image of a Transformers toy from his mind. He'd never seen the detective wearing anything but a suit. But now he was looking at a pair of white trousers reaching only mid calf and a white shirt with some intricate dark green pattern on the front. The detective had even messed up his hair with some wax and put on a bead necklace.

"Mr. Kinsey, this is Greg Sanders one of our criminalists." Greg nearly jumped at the words. He'd been a little too lost in admiring Vartann to notice that somebody had answered the door.

"Hey Detective, come on in and let's just go with Simon, eh?"

The man speaking wore a cast on his left arm and sported some fading bruises on his face. Greg shook the hand extended to him and followed into the house.

"I'm glad you had time to talk with us again Simon." said Vartann and dumped himself into the easy chair offered, leaving Greg to sit carefully down on the sofa, trying not to disturb the abundance of pillows present.

"Yeah no worries Alex. My folks are off this weekend to Salt Lake City, so I've got the house all to myself." Simon remained standing. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Some water would be nice." Greg had never before heard Vartann being so soft. The man was usually pretty cool and good at cutting through all the small talk.

Greg nodded, lost for words while his mind was trying to grasp the radical change in the Detective. While waiting for Simon, Greg took his time looking around the living room taking in the details of the young man's heritage. Judging from the pictures Simon was an only child and his parents still together. His attention to detail was normally high but Greg found it hard to focus on anything but the fact that their victim had called Vartann by his Christian name. A name that Greg couldn't even remember having heard before.

"Here you go."

Simon came in balancing a tray with glasses and a bottle of water tucked under his broken arm. Vartann rose and helped set the tray down. In itself not an abnormal thing to do, but Greg felt like he'd been placed in a parallel world. A man that he'd always perceived as sharp and rectangular suddenly came off all soft and round. A suspicion formed in his head and a fleeting touch of hands only fuelled it further.

"Thank you." Greg had to kick himself mentally to remember even simple civilities.

"You're welcome. So you wanted to know if I'd remembered more." said Simon and eased down into the other easy chair.

"Yes. It seems that the attack on you and Mr. Billington is just one in a long series of bashings." Vartann started.

"Big surprise!" The sarcasm sparkled in the young man's eyes.

"These are almost identical, same place, same time, same MO. And, I'm pretty sure same perps." Greg gaped at the missing sarcasm from Vartann.

"Oh." Simon sank in on himself.

"Yeah, so anything, even the tiniest detail would help to prevent more bashings like yours." A soft smile played across Vartann's face. "Have you heard from Adam?"

"Yeah, he got released from the hospital Thursday and I'm going to pick him up later today." Simon mirrored the smile. "As for any details, I don't know man."

"I think we need to get a few facts straightened out first." Greg felt awkward having to be the bad cop.

Both men turned their attention towards him, but only after a brief exchange of looks. "Like the exact nature of your … your knowledge of each other."

Simon looked down and Vartann assumed a mask of stone. Greg tried to keep his imagination at bay, but scenarios of the case being overthrown in court because of technicalities kept coming to him.

"We've had sex once." stated Vartann at last.

"We were into the same guy and … well he thought it'd be fun to watch us more than…" the detective took a deep breath. "to actually participate himself."

"How long ago?" Greg fought to keep calm.

"Two, two and a half years ago." offered Simon hesitantly.

"And that's it?" asked Greg, no matter how uncomfortable it made them all.

"No, not really. Simon…" Vartann sighed deeply and checked with Simon.

"I was pretty messed up at the time and Alex drove me to LA to a friendly place. Things were a lot different back then and it took me a while to remember that the neat detective last Saturday was actually you." Simon bit his lower lip and clearly struggled to face Vartann.

"Yeah well I didn't exactly make the connection either, until I checked out your background."

"I don't blame you; I was what, 40 pounds lighter with pink hair and black makeup." Simon turned his attention to Greg. "Like so many others I struggled with the whole coming out thing. And for a while there my life was ruled by fear. Fear that my parents would find out and hate me for it."

"I take it that they didn't." offered Greg empathetically.

"My aunt is a shrink and she'd advised them to let me come out on my own. Because, of course, they already knew." Simon rolled his eyes.

"It was her that I took you to, wasn't it?" said Vartann offering a rare smile.

"Yup. Eh, the guy that attacked me smelled like a sink cupboard. You know not strongly, but like that scent that lingers after you've done the dishes."

"And you just remembered that now?!" asked Greg in disbelief.

"Sorta, I mean I've been having weird dreams about cleaning, but couldn't make sense of them. Then before out in the kitchen I'd forgotten to close the cupboard door earlier and that smell was there. I.… I guess I just needed time to put it into the right context." Simon instantly became defensive making Greg regret his words.

~*~

Vartann rubbed his eyes as they left the fourth victim, exhausted from hours of talking with only little result. Their biggest breakthrough had actually been Simon remembering the smell of cleaning. The other three victims had barely been able to confirm their findings so far. Nick had called them a couple of times to update them on the timeline that he was building for the case. But nothing substantial had come up, nothing that offered a lead worth following. Greg had already offered more scenarios than they could possible manage to investigate before Saturday morning. And that single fact only served to confirm that he'd been right about Greg being the right tool for the job.

"So what if we don't find them before the next time?" asked Greg.

"I'd say we send in someone professional to take that room. There's no reason for more civilians to get hurt." It wouldn't be easy to get that approved, undercover operations never were. "But how about we just find the bad guys in time."

"Do you know who Ginny is?" asked Greg. "I mean we've heard her mentioned a few times as a bit of a rumor mill."

"I've got a vague idea on who Ginny is, but we've still got more interviews lined up." said Vartann.

"Maybe Nick could hunt her down?" Greg suggested.

"If I'm not all mistaken Ginny is a he in disguise. Should be a pretty big figure in gay Vegas." claimed Vartann. "I thought you'd tested out that scene?"

"I have, but my curiosity has always demanded going somewhere new. So I never really stuck around for long. Certainly not long enough to get to know the ins and outs. But what about you Mr. Detective?" smirked Greg.

"Me?" asked Vartann and fell momentarily silent.

"The whole Simon business dragged me in more than I'd liked. Ever heard about living your life in another county than where you patrol?"

"Yeah, but Vegas is a little too exciting for that." winked Greg.

"Figures. So what have we got?" asked Vartann rhetorically. "Two guys in room 437 with the lights on, on the bed."

"Having hot anal sex." Greg finished for him, somewhat superfluously.

After summing their information up Greg texted Nick and Sofia to have them track down and preferably interview Ginny. Vartann decided to detour to a sandwich bar before interviewing more people. He had begun to feel irritated and Greg too seemed off key, something that food often was the simple cure for.

~*~

A deep rumble from his belly and a pinching pain in the same region reminded Nick that he hadn't eaten for hours. He stood up to survey the case files spread out over the table while his right hand idly massaged at his sore neck. The timeline had formed slowly and was still incomplete, missing three Saturdays at random. The surrounding buildings still lacked being mapped with owners and occupants for the greater part. And last but not least the hotel had yet to cooperate. Another rumble forced Nick's attention back to his own basic needs, so he left for the breakroom hoping to have left something edible in the fridge.

"Hey Bro!" Warrick greeted him over the top of his laptop.

Nick managed to choke out a ‘hey' before he went scouring for food. Slamming the door of the fridge Nick felt another one of his typical unlucky days forming. The case was vague and there'd been so many different people taking reports that comparing them had turned into a higher mathematical equation, one he still wasn't happy with. The bashing struck him on a personal level more than he'd expected, but the hardest strike to his ego had been delivered by Vartann. Greg had been chosen over him, not that he didn't think Greg to be a good CSI. But he lacked experience, experience that Nick had.

"Earth to Stokes!" called Warrick.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

"Yeah man, I asked how the case was coming along. Where's your head?" The friendly jab was completely lost on Nick.

"It's not coming along. There are more loose ends than…. I don't know man." Nick didn't mean to whine, but he felt whiny.

"Hey no reason to bite. Some cases just don't happen overnight, you know that." The last words came with a strong emphasis.

"Don't patronize me! It's just that some of the filed reports have been… I… urhg." Nick flung his arms out in a resigning posture.

"What? Less than politically correct?" suggested Warrick.

"Less?! LESS! You wouldn't believe how much." Nick clenched his jaw trying to find his cool. "I can't believe how ignorant people can be!"

"Nick, Nicky!" called Warrick. "I'm not the enemy here man. You, Greg and Vartann will put wrong to right. You'll give those victims what nobody else cared to."

"Yeah I guess so." Closing his eyes Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Come on let's go eat. And I mean eat proper, ya know with meat and greens." Warrick landed a guiding hand on his shoulder. "We better bring the girls now that I'm thinking about it."

~*~

Sofia sat down on the chair that Nick held out for her in his true gentleman style before he sat down across from her. It amused her slightly that Nick would rather sit next to Catherine than suffer her mothering looks, but the fun dwindled as she realized just how tense Nick was. After they'd all ordered Catherine updated them on everything regarding Lindsey, clearly aware that none of them needed shop talk. Politely Sofia asked the right questions to keep the tale going. Eventually Catherine had had enough and turned to partly face Nick.

"So I understand that the case you're working on is getting big?"

"Looks like it. We've got 7 incidents so far, but not everyone reports these things." said Nick quietly.

"Nah, too big a blow to their masculinity perhaps?" wondered Catherine.

"I don't know, but some of them probably aren't out to their families and that could pose a problem if they report being bashed. And plenty of gays are perfectly confident about their masculinity." The last part had a harsh tone to it.

"Take it easy Nick. People have different reasons for not being out, I'm not that stupid!" snapped Catherine.

"Stop." The deep voice of Warrick shut them both up.

"Listen. This case will stir up a lot of things. Homosexuality is still a disease in certain people's opinion. Others see it as a minority causing trouble. Either way this is going to be a minefield to navigate, so perhaps we should… go easy on each other?" Sofia was about to continue when her phone started vibrating.

Before she'd managed to dig it out Nick's beeped with the classic you've been texted sound. It didn't take them long to look up and say Greg simultaneously. Somewhere in the back of her mind a bell rang, but Sofia failed to call up anything substantial on the ‘Ginny' mentioned in the text. For the first time she hoped that Nick was more gay than he normally let on, otherwise they could be in for some serious digging around to find said person. Next to her Warrick had begun to talk about his grandmother and old Vegas, which seemed to make sense to Catherine. Both had a clearly more profound knowledge of the city, but right now she just needed someone on the inside of the gay scene.

"I think I know how to get hold of this Ginny character." stated Nick.

"Yeah? That would save us some trouble for sure."

"There was a case a while back where I interviewed her right hand man. A guy called Tiff." said Nick as he began to thump away on his cell phone.

Sofia turned her attention to her half eaten meal, it had been a long night and morning for her so far and hunger had set in hard. Nick made a triumphant exclamation and turned his phone towards her, letting her read Tiff mobile. The piece of steak in her mouth only allowed for an appreciative nod.

"Hi Tiff, Nick here. Yeah that one. Doing good thanks."

Even though she could only hear half the conversation, Sofia had a pretty good idea of the initial niceties and recognition taking place. But she hadn't expected to hear a change in Nick's voice. The stereotype of the gay hairdresser came to mind as Nick edged closer to asking for a session with Ginny. Spellbound by the change in the CSI, Sofia listened to his half of the dialogue, completely forgetting the two others situated at the table as well.

"Alright! I've got us in. And we'd better get goin'." said Nick.

Warrick stopped them both with a hand letting them know that he was picking up the tab. Not needing the gentlemanly politeness Sofia pushed out her chair and rose before Nick had gotten to his feet. It just wasn't in her nature to feign being a lady for too long. Nor was it her place to mother Nick and comment on the food that he'd barely touched. It was just one of those observations that she locked away in her mind, never to be considered.

Nick directed Sofia to the private parking lot behind the club where Ginny held her court. At no time had she questioned his prior knowledge of the people involved nor had she suggested anything. Instead a comfortable silence had settled between them.

Nick noted that the backdoor was still its old colorful self, Ginny simply couldn't stand dull.

"It looks like something Greg would have on his door." remarked Sofia.

"Nah his style is more subdued than that." said Nick as he knocked on the door in question.

"I guess so." agreed Sofia.

The door opened and Tiff eyed him cautiously for a split second. Then Nick found himself being hugged and kissed on both cheeks, naturally his upbringing kicked in and he returned the greeting. He introduced Sofia and stepped aside to let her undergo the same treatment. Tiff chatted away as he led them into the depths of the club. If Sofia hadn't known about his sexual preferences before then she certainly would now, Nick mused.

It was only the second time that he was allowed into Ginny's private chamber and the décor still left him struck with awe. Sofia snapped for breath as she took in a room that outdid any scene from Moulin Rouge. The slender figure perched on the loveseat in the middle of the room was a perfect focal point if she'd ever seen one.

"Well hello my darling Nicky." said Ginny sweetly.

"Good day Ginny, I'd like you to meet Detective Sofia Curtis." said Nick.

With all the due drama he bowed and kissed the slender hand extended to him.

"Aww, isn't he just the sweetest darling you‘ve ever seen?" cooed Ginny.

The red hue on his cheeks increased when Sofia merely giggled a ‘nice to meet you‘.

"Come sit with me, darling Nicky." said Ginny and patted the loveseat.

Nick did as told and Sofia took the opposing antique arm chair. After some very embarrassing compliments on his looks Ginny fell serious. The blue eyes beneath the false lashes were sharp and intelligent, betraying the otherwise flamboyant style.

"Tiff, bring me my laptop." ordered Ginny in a sudden very masculine voice.

"So bashings. I have a very long list of that." stated Ginny tiredly.

"We are looking into those that have occurred on Saturday mornings behind…"

"Room 437, yes I've heard." Ginny cut in.

"Tragic really. To think that I started this list to protect the sweet boys from the bad boys. Now it's all about who has had his face beaten in, because some got scared seeing a queer."

"We have seven incidents reported, but there are three Saturdays that are blank on my list. And it was only one of the guys that took the beating this morning that came forward." said Nick.

"Who?"

"Steven Reynolds, young student here on a scholarship." offered Sofia.

"Oh the mathematician, he's such a pretty young man." Sighing deeply, Ginny continued. "Thomas, Thomas Harris would have been with him. But know this. Thomas is married and I believe that he and his wife have a deal; that this never interferes with their marriage."

Nick looked down on the floor, losing himself for a while in the pattern on the carpet. The story was one he'd heard a good many times before. But it was necessary to find the one victim that held the clue. In his mind he tried to form the magic words that would make Thomas talk to them, but for each line, there was a perfect valid counter.

"We would very much like to talk to Mr. Harris. Anonymously if need be." requested Sofia.

"I take it that you'd also want his clothes from this morning?"

The rhetorical meaning wasn't lost on them and Nick mirrored Sofia's nod. Ginny ordered Tiff to produce Thomas on the premises ASAP, disregarding the protests issued by her assistant. And then without pause she went back to comparing her list with the one Nick had brought. Only one more Saturday yielded a bashing.

"That would be Sal with a tourist. Pretty Thai he landed that night. Not without a lot of competition though." smiled Ginny.

"Do you think Sal would be willing to talk to us?" asked Nick.

"Perhaps. Tiff should be able to bring him here." stated Ginny.

With the elegance of a dancer Ginny twisted around on the loveseat to gain a more direct view of Nick. It didn't take him long to recognize her need to confirm that it was really him and that he really was there. He'd seen it with so many people since his recovery from Walter Gordon's game. The intensity had varied greatly as had his patience to deal with that kind of scrutiny. A slender hand with perfect French nails caressed the minute scar on his forehead left there by Nigel Crane.

"I must admit that I've been worried about you Nicky." said Ginny softly.

The capillaries in his face filled with blood as the words touched down in his mind. The anger that he had so often responded with when he was met with this kind of concern stayed silent. Like most acquainted with the community, he valued Ginny highly and allowed her to baby him.

"I'm okay. Really, I am." Nick whispered back.

"I guess you haven't found your sexual side yet, have you?"

"No, not really. It's been more about getting my body working properly again and my mind to stop playing tricks on me." said Nick.

Months of therapy, both physical and mental, had paved his road back to life or as Greg had put it, to his new life. To begin with he had argued that he wouldn't change that much, but as usual Greg hadn't been all that wrong. The hand traveled down his cheek and came to rest under his chin.

"Well you'll just let me know if you need to rediscover how to be sexy. I would be happy to help." suggested Ginny playfully before kissing him chastely.

Tiff interrupted them by declaring that he'd achieved the impossible and that Mr. Harris would be with them soon. The assistant who'd come in looking pleased with himself left with slumped shoulders. The order to find and convince one more victim to talk did not suit him. Nick cherished the pause, using the time to regain his composure. It also dawned on him that Sofia had witnessed it all. Not sure what to expect from her he looked up and found her smiling, a smile that he could only describe as dirty.

"So honey, are you from a long line of cops?" asked Ginny directing her attention to Sofia.

"I am, my mother has more ambitions for me than I do." admitted Sofia.

"Oh your mother. No strong men in the family?"

"A few, but Mrs. Curtis is the boss at the end of the day. Though I do defy her by being here." said Sofia.

"Ah, a rebel. And gay, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah well, there aren't that many men that have fallen to my taste one could say."

The honest words from Sofia surprised him, but then again she'd caught a glimpse of his private life as well.

"Oh so you're like Nicky boy here. A bit of both depending on the mood." said Ginny.

The blood returned to his face at the revelation. But Sofia seemed completely unfazed by it all and went into a discussion with Ginny on the degrees of gayness. Nick leaned back and listened to the points made by both. Idly he wondered where he fitted in, was it as the loving husband with 2.4 children and white picket fence or was it as the eternal queer going from one night stand to the next. In all earnest he hoped it was somewhere in between, loved and cared for by another person. Time had lost its feel and suddenly Tiff announced the arrival of Thomas Harris. Introductions were made and both he and Sofia repeatedly assured the battered man that he was not under any obligation to talk to them, other than the moral sort.

"Stevie's roommate hadn't gone off for the weekend, he usually does so we took a room in the hotel." started Thomas after due consideration.

"May I photograph your bruises? The development of them could turn out to be helpful." explained Nick. It was one bruise in particular he found interesting.

"That sounds like a thing that needs repeating daily." sighed Thomas.

"It would, but I can assure you that it would be either me or my colleague Greg Sanders that would be taking the photographs." said Nick.

He then proceeded to take out his phone and look up his entry on Greg complete with a small picture. The picture was somewhat outdated given the spikiness of Greg's hair.

"I thought that name sounded familiar." exclaimed Thomas. "He kick-boxes in the same gym as me."

"Would you be comfortable with him?" asked Nick.

"Yeah why not. I guess you want this as well." said Thomas and handed him a garbage bag. "Tiff said to bring the clothes I wore this morning. Is Stevie badly hurt?"

"No, he's got some bruises and a fractured collarbone. But nothing that will keep him in hospital." informed Sofia him.

"Phew. I tried to call him on his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. I just couldn't handle it."

Thomas bowed his head and focused on the hands straightening even the smallest wrinkle in his jeans. The room fell silent as they all waited for Thomas to continue his recount of the morning's events. A low but persistent rumble emanated from Nick's abdomen, again making him regret not having eaten more of his meal. But as usual when a case was bothering him too much he found it hard to eat. As if on cue Tiff came in with a tray of snacks and hurried out to supply them with water as well.

"I'm supposed to be strong enough and ugly enough to take care of myself. Besides I have a deal with the missus. What I do with men on my off time is not to interfere with our daily life. And what she does… she's a… she's a nymphomaniac. I knew it when I married her. Knew that I could never satisfy her and she knew that I need… that I need a man's touch on occasion."

Thomas guzzled down a bottle of water before he spoke again.

"Stevie and me have a pretty good thing going and being able to use his room keeps it out of her hair. But things … well they didn't go quite as planned. So we took a room needing some bed space. I don't really like the backroom stuff. It's alright but nothing like some decent lovin'. Anyway we left and headed towards the parking lot when those pricks jumped us."

Thomas rose from his chair and started to pace.

"Two, there were two. The guy jumping me wore jeans and packed a mean punch."

The swollen jaw, black eye and split lip confirmed his statement.

"The other one, he had one of those coveralls on. Or well it looked like one, dark I think. But it went down fast and I was a bit off after the first blow to my head. Bastard got me good. Weird thing though, I can't remember them saying anything at all."

The man had clearly had time to straighten out the events in his head. But Nick also knew that meant he'd had time to fill in the blanks as well.

"When you were in the hotel room did you leave the lights on?" asked Sofia.

Thomas turned to face her, nodded and resumed his pacing.

"Would you mind stating the exact nature of your placement in the room and acts undertaken?" Again Sofia managed to ask in a subtle way.

"On the bed, me riding Stevie. On the bed, Stevie taking me doggy style." stated Thomas with his back turned to them all.

"Did you use the bathroom?"

"I took a leak, that's it." answered Thomas.

~*~

The alarm shattered his world with its persistent ringing when for once he was dreaming a nice dream. Irritated, Greg hit the off button. His night off had been spent entertaining a neighbor that had just broken up with his girlfriend. It had been either join the ruckus or call the cops. Initially he'd thought about the latter, but then thought back to the last time he'd partied. It had been ages and suddenly his inner teenager had awoken. Only now Greg wished that he'd been more grown up about it and perhaps not drunk the last 5 shots of Tequila. The feet carrying him to the kitchen had become quite clueless and forgotten where all the furniture was placed, causing him to bump his knees, a hip and at least two toes on each foot. His arms faired little better as he tried to start the coffeemaker.

The cold water spraying down on Greg did wonders however and finally enabled his synapses to fire at an acceptable rate. Showered, caffeinated and dressed Greg felt nearly normal. The hangover was reduced to a mere background humming and the furry feeling in his mouth had died with the third cup of coffee. But he didn't want to run the risk of driving, so he called Nick to ask for a lift that of course was promptly granted.

Nick was overly excited when he picked Greg up since the clothes that Thomas Harris had given to them had spent the night in DNA and Trace. Greg understood the enthusiasm because it was their best evidence so far, but he found it hard to join in. The hangover threatening him with motion sickness put a solid damper on his mood.

"Just where did you get that energy boost?" grumbled Greg.

"Well for starters I didn't out drink an entire bar. I went to the pool and the gym afterwards. You should try it sometime G." taunted Nick.

"Oh ha ha funny. I do work out regularly. I just didn't want to be the grumpy neighbor." stated Greg.

"Aww poor little Greggo. All work and no fun, eh?" teased Nick.

"Something like that." mumbled Greg.

The traffic slowed and diverted their attention. The last thing Greg was in the mood for was an accident as he already felt like one. Nick turned on the radio and the traffic announcer filled the cab with her steadfast voice telling them that a juggernaut was being hauled through North Las Vegas leaving them to play the waiting game along with every other car out there.

"So how much did you and Vartann get from all your interviews?" asked Nick as they came to a dead stop.

"Not much really. Just a confirmation on their outfits and the clean smell. I learned more about Vartann than the crimes, that's for sure." said Greg.

"He's a good man. I like working with him. Not saying that I don't like the other detectives, but ya know."

"Yeah, I know. Man I hope we get a good lead on this soon. It totally pisses me off when people get beaten for just being themselves." stated Greg.

"Let me guess, too many jocks in your school." said Nick sympathetically.

"And then some. What I don't get is that the kids they pick on often end up doctors and bankers. Didn't they consider that one day they might be under the knife of one of their victims?" asked Greg.

"That would require actual thinking."

"Oh yeah. You know I really regret having drunk this much with all the paperwork I've got lined up for tonight." sighed Greg.

"That's life for ya. I've got two interviews and the clothes to sort through. Then Thomas Harris, the guy I texted you about, is coming in to have another shot taken of that jaw.'"

"Are you hoping to identify the ring that way?"

"Could get lucky, otherwise it would serve as good amotional evidence in court. How many interviews did you actually do yesterday?" asked Nick.

"Seven, we lucked out on the rest. And I doubt we'll get them to talk." said Greg as the traffic began moving again.

"Mmh, so we've got a lot ridin' on those clothes." said Nick offhandedly as his focus returned to driving.

Archie came in after only five hours of sleep haunted by the black and white images from his last shift. With every angle covered in the casino it had pissed him off that he'd kept losing track of the victim in Brown's latest case. But the sleep Archie had planned to catch in order to freshen up had been uneasy, so there he was padding down the hall towards his lab coffee in hand when Warrick showed up.

"Hey Arch, found my guy?"

"Nope, just came in. Did you even go home?" asked Archie in return.

"Yeah, but Tina came home early all cranky and bitchy, so I let her alone like she told me to." stated Warrick.

"Aw come on man, when women say that, all they want is to be babied."

"You don't know Tina!" claimed Warrick.

"Hey man relax. Let me get some caffeine onboard and I'll find that guy for you. Casinos just don't let anybody drop off camera." grinned Archie.

"That's for sure. I'll be in DNA if you find anything." with that Warrick left.

The coffee opened his eyes enough to find the next camera angle before losing him again. After a while Archie decided on more coffee and got up to leave his lab only to stumble into Greg. The phrase death warmed over came to his mind, Greg smelled of alcohol and had a far off look in his eyes.

"Hi Greg. Did you forget to sleep or what?"

"Nah I ran into a party on the way to bed." said Greg, mildly bemused.

"Oh that sounds nice. So did you get anywhere with all those interviews?"

"Mostly just a confirmation of what we already know, which's not a lot."

"I was thinking, this only happens on a certain weekday right?" at a nod Archie carried on. "So it could be a backup team."

"Backup team?" asked Greg nonplussed.

"Small firms, you know 3-4 employees, usually don't have their own IT-department. So they rely on consultants and many use them for backup as well."

"So a crew comes to your firm after hours and backup a weeks worth of data?" asked Greg for confirmation.

"Yup and the cleaners to wipe a weeks worth of dust off of the computers." joked Archie.

"Cleaning is actually our best bet, but we need to interview those running firms in the building overlooking the hotel. Besides why only have cleaning once a week?" wondered Greg.

"The secretary probably takes care of the trashcan on a day to day basis." suggested Archie.

"Good point man. So coffee?" asked Greg pointing at Archie's empty mug.

The words caught on Archie's tongue when Nick started to shout in Trace. With Greg he went out into the hall to up the chance of hearing it all.

"What do you mean not gotten around to?!" asked Nick in a near shouting voice.

"That your evidence is not the only I have to process." the response came snide and fast.

"I know that! But you had all last night to do it in!" anger was still controlled.

"Along with everything else. Too bad you don't have pretty boy Sanders here to do it for you." snarled Hodges.

"Along with what? Sara's dead woman from last night?" hissed Nick.

"Well yes, for instance."

"She logged that after I logged this, so how come you are working that now?" asked Nick aggravated.

"So the killer can be caught." huffed Hodges.

"As far as I know there's no indication of this being a serial thing. Whereas mine is!"

"Well nobody has died yet!" said Hodges sourly.

"That's the point!" shouted Nick. "And if you stall processing this, more will get hurt!"

"I'm not stalling! I'm just not like Sanders who always did your stuff first." snapped Hodges.

"WHAT?!" the cry was filled with indignation.

"Everybody knows that he did your stuff first. The little suck-up."

Archie wondered if either man knew of the audience they had attracted after a quick glance around. The determined footfall approaching made both him and Greg step back towards AV, neither needing to be in the way of an angry Grissom.

"Nick, David!" Grissom cut through. "Nick my office, now!"

Fascinated Archie watched as Nick clearly considered voicing a protest, but then decided otherwise. Grissom shut the door after Nick left Trace and whatever he said to Hodges remained between those two and any who might be able to read lips. Nick walked past them without acknowledging anyone on his way to the office.

"Is that the general perception in the lab, that I did Nick's stuff first?" whispered Greg.

"Nah, it's the nature of the case. No big murder investigation, so no big press." mused Archie.

"Fuck that. If the man can't handle a little homosexuality he's not fit for the job. A case is a case and this is a serial. So what if they haven't killed anyone so far, all it takes is one kick in the right place." The words rang with anger.

"Don't you think that's pretty much what's Grissom trying to tell him now?"

"I sure hope so, because Nick was right, right to get upset." stated Greg.

A very determined Grissom left Hodges' domain, but was deterred by Greg stepping out in front of him.

"Not now Greg."

"Yes now." said Greg without flinching.

"What part of not now didn't you understand?" asked Grissom in his unemotional fashion.

"I understood, but ignored. Don't be too hard on Nick! That's the only solid evidence we have for this case." stated Greg calmly.

Grissom moved forward choosing not to answer. Greg only stepped away at the last moment long after Archie had backed into the safety of his lab.

"Greg. Greg man, don't do anything rash." called Archie.

~*~

The brisk walk around the block had calmed Greg, but he still intended to let Grissom know his two cents. Initially he just wanted to barge in before Grissom tore Nick a new one. Then a few feet from the door a voice of reason popped up in his head and demanded a walk. Belonging to a minority often warranted trouble even with those designed to protect you by law and Greg hated that. He had been taught from infancy to accept and welcome all, to learn and seek knowledge, to understand and most importantly never to dismiss until having tried. It had taken him years to realize that not all people lived like him and even longer to even remotely understand the hatred of groups.

When he returned to the lab Grissom sat alone in his office studying something on the computer. Without knocking Greg entered and shut the door behind him.

"Can we talk?" asked Greg.

Grissom peered over his glasses and nodded towards the opposing chair.

"For what's it worth, I'm with Nick on this. We've got live victims that need their assailants to be held responsible for what they've done." stated Greg.

"No case warrants fighting over what order evidence gets processed in."

"It does when your evidence is shoved to the end of the queue for no good reason. Other than nobody has died yet." mocked Greg.

"Greg!" warned Grissom.

"Come on, what's more important murder or bashing?" demanded Greg.

"In relation to what?" countered Grissom.

"Society, all know that murder is not acceptable, but the message seems more cloudy with bashings. Especially when officers of the law more or less endorse bashing of certain minorities." Greg shot back.

"Go work your case. Hodges will process your evidence tonight." and with that Grissom dismissed him.

"Hooray. Something he should have done yesterday, that damn homophobe."

"Who's the one passing judgment now?" Grissom snapped back.

"Me and I know I shouldn't, but this is just so damned frustrating."

"Oft expectation fails, and most oft there." quoted Grissom.

"Helena I presume."

Greg left a stunned Grissom behind. But then how was his boss to know that one of his old friends from the high school chess club was a die hard Shakespeare fan only speaking in quotes. After a pit stop for coffee Greg found Nick in front of a computer updating the case file. Neither of them dwelt on the incident with Hodges, both far more interested in making progress with the case. After five hours Hodges paged Greg.

"At least he didn't page Sara." muttered Nick.

"Sometimes he just gets so… annoying. Who is he to prioritize anyway?"

Strong will enabled Greg to relax his shoulders and unclench his hands before heading to Hodges with Nick in tow. They received a fake smile from Hodges one that Greg didn't even bother to return.

"I found cleaning agents. These brands." a list was shoved into Greg's hands.

"That's it?" asked Nick.

"Yes, what did you expect? A confession signed sealed and delivered?" snapped Hodges.

"No." mumbled Nick clearly repressing saying what he really wanted.

"Thanks Hodges. Come on Nick, let's see if the swabs yielded anything." said Greg dragging Nick of to DNA.

"One unknown donor is all I've got for you. I need something to compare it too." stated Wendy.

"The databases came up empty? All of them?" asked Greg with disbelief.

"Yeah, you know the drill Greg." said Wendy.

"Unfortunately. Why is it, that no matter what lead we follow we hit a brick wall?" the words voicing his frustration.

"Let's look into those building across from the hotel. We still need to get the occupants of the various offices mapped out." suggested Nick.

On Thursday morning Catherine got called to the Sheriff's office. At first she wondered if her recent case with a molested child had stepped on some mighty toes. However the meeting turned out to be just as hard for her to get through. They had called her in to consult on Nick's present state of mind. On the way into the meeting room Catherine had spotted Vartann and Sofia having a discussion with Ryan, the departments undercover ops coordinator.

Nick had brought her up to date on the bashing case earlier that morning. Despite many interviews they were still nowhere near naming any suspects. Something that had caused Nick's temper to fluctuate more than normal, even Greg and Vartann hadn't been able to keep their cool at all times. Nick had nearly bit her head off when she'd asked why some of the offices had no names attached to them. But he'd managed, after a few berating words, to explain the lack of cooperation.

As she faced the department shrink and Ryan it didn't require much imagination to figure that two men would be going undercover. And that she would have a final say in who. It was quickly made clear to her that Detective Vartann was mandatory. Catherine objected strongly, but nobody seemed to care for the fact that Nick and Greg would make a better couple than Vartann would with either. Over the years she had often wondered just how deep their friendship really went. Sometimes they came off more closely connected than most married couples and then suddenly they would, for a period, seem estranged.

"How fit mentally would Nick Stokes be a job of this nature Mrs. Willows?"

"Plenty I would say. This case means a lot to him and he's not one to back down." answered Catherine.

"Do you know if he's been involved sexually with anyone after his kidnapping?" asked the department shrink.

"Eh, I don't actually. He hasn't mentioned anything, but it's not like he has Warrick to brag to anymore." defended Catherine.

"Have Mr. Brown and Mr. Stokes fallen out?"

"No, but you don't boast about sexual adventures to a married man. Not when you're raised to be polite like Nick is." answered Catherine, desperately trying to defend her guys.

The questions kept coming and in the end she found herself recommending that Greg would go undercover with Vartann. But not without emphasizing that Nick was fully fit to do his job and that he could be depended on regardless. Though that message seemed to fall short of the ears she intended it for. The last thing she wanted to do was sell Nick short.

Sofia caught up with her as she left. "Catherine they do this to avoid the operation blowing up in their faces." she soothed.

"I know, but it felt like I was diminishing Nick's abilities as a CSI." complained Catherine.

"You'd only do that if you truly believed it. This case has just been one long hike up hill with no top in sight. It has affected us all that no matter what, we came up empty."

"Agreed. I must say that it has surprised me to see how adverse people have been to help on this one." said Catherine.

"Gays are the negros of today." stated Sofia bluntly. "It shouldn't be like that. People should be educated enough to know that homosexuality is a natural as blue eyes, a certain percentage of the population just happens to…"

Greg came towards them in a determined stride only briefly greeting them before entering an office with Vartann and the undercover ops manager.

"I hope they know what they are in for." said Sofia.

"Sex, ain't that obvious?"

"I was more thinking about the pre-briefing and debriefing. In my experience those are often worse than the actual assignment." stated Sofia.

~*~

After four hours of a not very fulfilling sleep Greg parked in the lab's lot. It was Thursday evening and he was coming in for his last regular shift before going undercover. The operation had been finally approved and planned earlier that day. Nick, Vartann and he had turned over every stone they could find connected to the case, but none of them had brought them any closer to catching the bad guys than they'd been last week. Several other people had helped them on and off, some still somewhat shaken by the fit Nick had thrown. Not that he had been totally unaffected either. Greg had just been lucky enough to only have Grissom witness him losing it.

"You heard me right Nick. Just get your ass out there and meet Grissom." Catherine walked past Greg's car just as he got out. "No this is not up for debate. I don't care what other cases you have or don't have at the moment."

Greg eased his car door shut, knowing better than to disturb Catherine when she used her commanding voice.

"Stop whining Nick. Grissom's been out there for hours and he could really do with some help now." Her heels echoed on the hard floor of the reception, making Greg keep his distance.

"As far as I'm informed that case is at a standstill for the moment." Catherine let out a very audible sigh as Nick clearly argued his point on the other end.

"Listen to me Nick. You are going to meet Grissom in Jean." After a brief pause Catherine slowed down her fast paced walk. "South Las Vegas Boulevard, behind the airport down towards the Union Pacific."

"No, not on the actual tracks. Listen there should be enough of a fuss down there for you not to miss it." Greg couldn't help but wonder what had made her lose her patience with Nick that badly.

"Yeah, no. No, we'll discuss that later Nick. I've got a shift to start now. Bye." Catherine snapped her phone shut.

"You can come closer now Greg. I promise not to bite." Catherine glanced over her shoulder and flashed him a smile.

"Well, personal spaces are something to respect."

"Come on Greggo, we've work to do and Grissom's off on a bug mission." Catherine invaded his personal space and threw an arm around his shoulder.

"So what did he need Nick for?"

"Not sure, you know Grissom. He leaves you to figure that out for yourself." Catherine gave a light laugh and headed off towards her office.

Ten minutes later Greg was following her once again, but this time to a crime scene in one of the least attractive areas of Las Vegas. Only very few things get old in Las Vegas and for some reason the apartment building they pulled up in front of belonged to that select few. They were met by detectives Cavalieri and Vartann along with 10 uniforms or so. It was one thing to work a crime scene with your boss looking over your shoulder, but to work one with 10 cops hanging around just for protection was more than stressing.

"Get your flashlights out, the lift's broken and there's no light in the stairwell." said Cavalieri.

Greg complied and stayed close to Catherine as they started to climb the stairs, led by Cavalieri and a uniform.

"Maybe the trash shoot would be a cleaner climb." suggested Vartann with his usual sarcasm.

The smell of decaying food, urine and vomit hung thick in the air. Greg could hear Sara telling him to smile to control the gag-reflex, so he did. The apartment they entered looked more like a set in a splatter movie than a place to live in.

One of the uniforms informed them that the coroner had yet to arrive, so they had plenty of time to do overall shots. Despite the coverall he'd donned before climbing the stairs Greg knew that he'd need a complete change of clothes after processing this scene. The walls were covered in blood spatter of varying velocity. The air was thick with the metallic taste of blood and something else that his mind failed to identify. Sniffing the air Greg exaggerated his facial moves and added his best imitation of a dog yelping. With a giggle Catherine commanded him to seek and Vartann to stay with him even though the apartment was officially cleared.

The smell led him into a narrow hallway making him wonder what the designers of the building had smoked when they had come up with this particular layout. Greg still didn't recognize the smell, but it was strong and unique enough for him to follow it. Even with Vartann hot on his heels Greg found it surprisingly easy to ignore the fact that they'd be having sex in 24 hours. With that thought he lost the trail. A moment of bewilderment passed until Greg found the smell to be emanating from a built in closet in the narrow hallway. Snapping a few shots of the door and the floor in front of it he asked the detective to open the door.

Viewing the world through a camera lens makes it smaller, smaller as in going from a 40" screen to a 3" screen which Greg knew perfectly well. Yet the size of the gun pointing at him and Vartann was surrealistic big. The finger pulling the trigger was covered in blood. The shoes moving looked like a size 20 in his camera. Out of the corner of his eye Greg caught the dropping motion of Vartann. A hand forced his chest backwards, effectively knocking his head into the wall leaving him to slide down it.

And then the world caught up in speed again. Vartann was crying out in pain and trying to aim at the fleeting shadow with his gun. Catherine demanded to know what the hell was going on. Cavalieri's footsteps sounded like those of a much larger creature as he gave chase. Greg dropped the camera and zoomed in on the blood oozing from Vartann's left leg. The words of his first aid instructor echoed in his brain and brought his hands into motion. With a force surprising himself, Greg ripped the pants leg up to the knee revealing a mess of blood and flesh. He figured that since the blood wasn't pumping out the artery hadn't been hit, but it flowed a lot faster than what he cared for.

At the top of his lungs he kept screaming Officer down until a uniform kneeled next to him. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he opened the first aid kit that the cop had brought with him. His hands mirrored the moves of his first aid instructor, applying a compress sufficiently tight to slow the flow of blood. The uniform's radio crackled to life and informed them that an ambulance had been dispatched. With some difficulty Greg manoeuvred around in the narrow hallway until he had Vartann's injured leg resting on his shoulder.

"Alex, Alex it's gonna be alright, you're gonna be fine." Greg said in a soothing voice.

Strained breaths and a few oaths were all that Vartann had to offer. A slow warmth spread from his shoulder and downwards. Greg knew without looking that it was the blood still seeping from the wound that was soaking him. Shouts from the stairwell rang out and echoed too much for Greg to decipher the actual words. But Ecklie's voice soon became one of the dominant ones. A lot of ‘yes sir' and ‘no sir' travelled down the hallway to where he sat as Ecklie and Cavalieri entered the apartment. Greg kept up a steady stream of calming words and allowed Vartann to fiercely grab his hands as the pain ripped through the flesh wound.

"Good Lord Alex!" exclaimed Ecklie before squatting down at Vartann's head.

The next few minutes drowned in answering Ecklie's questions first and then the EMT's. Greg tried to feel present, but part of him ran on autopilot ignoring emotions threatening to make him crumple. Ecklie left with the EMTs carrying Vartann out of the apartment. Greg just remained sitting on the floor in the exact same position.

"Are you okay there Sanders?" asked detective Cavalieri.

"Did you get him?"

"Catherine did." the words were cold.

His mind presented a memory of only minutes ago that Greg had already long forgotten of two shots fired in rapid succession. A double tap Nick had called it the first time he'd taken Greg to the firing range. There were a million questions scattered in his brain, but none of them able to make the journey to his mouth, Greg felt frozen.

"You sure you're okay?" repeated Cavalieri.

A nod sent the detective away.

Nick bounded up the steps pushing a few uniforms out of the way in his ascent. Time had lost its realism to him since Grissom had gotten the phone call that had made them drop what they had in their hands and rush off. On their way back towards town they'd hardly exchanged more than a few words, both far more intent on the police radio. Only on a few prior occasions had Nick experienced tunnel vision, but all he could see now was Greg sitting on the floor soaked in blood. People were talking around him, but his brain only caught noise.

"Don't step in any evidence!" warned Grissom from behind him.

Nick grabbed the shoe covers that a hand held out to him and donned them while scanning the floor, thinking out the best route to where Greg was. Feet fitted into the slots appointed by their mastering brain nicely, leading Nick to the stone faced Greg. A strenuous squat brought his face level with Greg's.

"Hi Nick, what are you doing here? I thought you were with Grissom?" The genuine wonder was completely disjointed from the reality Greg was sitting in.

It was more than Nick's brain could process and reply to within a reasonable timeframe. For the first time his sister's statement it felt like my tongue was dislocated made sense. She'd been assaulted and failed to cry for help, but she'd been lucky. A group of tourists had wandered off their route and happened on her and her assailant.

Greg stared him directly in the eyes. The brown was darker than Nick recalled, there was an unfamiliar glaze present as well.

"Airports, birds, eh, there were dead birds and Grissom wanted to know if they were there for a reason. And a DB of course." Nick's tongue finally accepted orders again.

"Do you know that Vartann got shot?" asked Greg without moving any muscles but those of his mouth.

"Yeah we heard, came to see if we could help." The only change noticeable was a dilation of pupils.

"I'm evidence now. I'll have to be bagged and tagged ya know." The words reeked of false humor.

"I know, have you got extra clothes with you?" It was a stupid question, because they always had.

"Nah fresh out of clean stuff." sighed Greg and lowered his eyes, breaking the stare.

Nick promptly ordered to have his bag brought up, tossing his keys to the only uniform he could remember the name of. The state of the apartment startled his senses when he looked for a place to bag Greg's clothes. It had been a long time since Nick had last been so disgusted by a crime scene. Images of holding a bus driver in his arms while trying to coax Greg into action flashed up, making sweat break on his brow.

"Are you hurt in any way Greg?" His voice peaked unnaturally high.

"Huh? No not really, got pushed into the wall. But… the camera, where's my camera?" The frantic head movements made Nick clench his jaw hard.

Nick eyed the camera behind Greg. The blitz had broken off but the house still looked intact.

"Don't worry about the camera G." ordered Nick.

"Nick!"

Grissom had a voice that could penetrate anything and Nick snapped his head up looking over his shoulder. There was no need for a reply, only his attention was demanded. His boss had assumed that blank expression he used for emotional defense.

"There's a woman down the hall that has offered us the use of her bathroom. Can you carry Greg there?" asked Grissom rhetorically.

"S-sure."

"Good, have an officer help you and stand guard." Grissom turned his attention to something else.

To minimize further contamination of evidence Nick decided to don one of the white disposable coveralls. Even though the case seemed pretty clear, experience had taught him that the defense would go to great lengths when their clients were charged with assaulting an officer. The uniform he'd sent to get his bag came back and Nick remembered why Davies nickname was the monkey; the man had short legs and long arms. A feature that would come in handy.

"Hey Davies, get in one of the white suits, gloves and a mask for good measure. We don't wanna budge this one." suggested Nick.

Davies complied and listened to Nick's instructions on how to move Greg. The plan was for Davies to hold a plastic bag under Greg, while Nick carried him out in front of himself like you would a child that was dirty. It would be a strain, but Nick figured that if he could do exercises with weights heavier than Greg then it could be accomplished. All Greg did was just sit on the floor careful not to touch anything.

"Do you wanna face me or…..?" asked Nick when he bent down to pick up Greg.

The confused look on Greg's face hit him hard and Nick's resolve to be strong and guiding wavered for a moment.

"Do you know that Vartann got shot?" asked Greg.

Nick didn't answer, instead he grunted as he lifted Greg up. They carefully followed a narrow path out of the apartment. Once out in the hall the strain on his arms started to burn. Nick felt his tee ride up over his upper arms and undoubtedly split in the armpits. Both Warrick and Greg had given him a hard time over his sometimes lazy shopping but it was just easier to get tees at the supermarket when he was there anyway. The uniform waiting for them further down the hall didn't really seem to get any closer tempting Nick to set Greg down for just a moment. Davies cheered Nick on when he began to stagger. Nick's breaths came in short puffs and every tendon and muscle above his waist were burning with the heavy burden.

"I'll be just outside waiting if there's anything you guys need." said Davies after Greg had been safely placed in the shower cubicle.

Nick just nodded, still trying to catch his breath. After a quick change and bagging of his gloves Nick inserted a filter in the drain to catch any escaping evidence. Then he set about undressing Greg. The bathroom was a complete opposite to the rest of the building; it was clean and smelled good. Apart from being clean the bathroom was also warm, making Nick sweat inside the plastic suit.

"Alight G‘, boots, left one first."

"Maybe you should start with my gloves."

Nick looked up from his crouched position to see a pair of bloodied gloves extended towards him.

"Good thinking Greg."

Greg had a child-like awed look on his face as Nick worked.

"It smells like Nana's bathroom, with the lavender and… eh…." Greg was clearly fumbling for the right word.

"It's that soap in the red wrapping right?" Nick recalled the same smell from his grandmother's house.

Greg nodded enthusiastically and lifted his left leg to allow the removal of his boot.

"I'll have to call and ask her the name. I hate not being able to remember stuff like that." stated Greg.

"Left sock."

"Hey Nick, are any of your grandparents still alive?" asked Greg in an eerily naïve tone.

"No, I'm the baby of the litter remember." His voice was slightly muffled by the mask.

"Is there an external supervision of this case, since you're wearing a mask?" the tone remained that childlike one.

"No, not what I know of. Grissom was just very clear on not messing this up." sighed Nick.

"OK, do you remember that case where the actor had ended up with a Trans? Man that guy was really picking on every detail." Greg sounded almost excited at the memory.

"Right foot."

"Do you know that Vartann got shot?" asked Greg again forcing Nick to take a deep breath.

"Yeah and Greg, you need to make a statement on that episode. So why don't you tell me what happened." suggested Nick softly.

Greg made several false starts in an attempt to speak, leaving Nick very unsure on how to help his colleague. One thing he knew for certain was Greg's love for making a presentation. So witnessing Greg unable to speak was another blow to Nick's mind.

"I saw, I was, I had," a deep sigh ensued. "I had the camera up and was taking pictures of the floor in front of the cupboard when…. do you realize how small the world gets when you're seeing it through a viewfinder?"

Nick stood up and nodded as he removed his gloves and exchanged them for a new pair, not wanting to stop Greg's flow.

"All I really saw was the barrel and feet. I swear it looked so out of proportion that for all I know it could have been an RPG. Or should I say bazooka, will people know what an RPG is? Only it didn't sit on his shoulder, so that way it would just have to be a big pistol or revolver. I didn't notice that. Do you think it was a revolver, how many uses revolvers these days? Or maybe I should just say gun. But then it could also be like a rifle or an SMG for that matter." Greg finally ran out of breath.

"You're not on the stand Greg, it's just a statement. No jury to explain to. Just one of the detectives and they'll know, don't worry."

Nick tried to ignore the sweat making his body sticky and the suit cling to his arms hindering free movement.

"The feet looked huge, like a size 20 or something. But that wouldn't be right, I mean most guys are somewhere between 8 and 13. I don't even know if Nike makes their new Air Zoom… Brave in that size. That distinct yellow sole is hard to forget. What do you think a 140 dollar shoe was doing here anyway? I mean it's not like people here seem like they can afford expensive sneakers like that. Maybe the shoes were stolen and that's why he was hiding, if it was a guy. I'm not even sure. I mean all I really saw were the shoes and… and… and…."

Nick eased Greg out of his coverall. The blood had seeped through and contrasted by Greg's white tee it was still bright red and fresh. The lack of fashionable clothing only registered in the back of Nick's mind, Greg's stuttering attempt to account for what had happened worried him. It was clear that Vartann had lost a substantial amount of blood and that Greg had yet to come to terms with that.

"And then Alex fell out of sight. Or did I hear the shot first? I don't know. The bullet travels faster than the sound, but how fast depends on the gun and since I don't remember what it was, then I don't know how fast the bullet travelled and I can't remember if I heard the shot before or after I saw Alex fall, I mean Detective Vartann. I have to say Vartann in the statement. Alex sounds wrong, especially since nobody really uses his name. I mean we all call him Vartann. You know Ecklie called him Alex when he came and took him to the hospital. Well Ecklie didn't take him there the EMTs did but Ecklie went with him. Do you think they're more than friends? Vartann hasn't said anything about Ecklie in the past week. But then picturing him with Simon was kinda hard so maybe our detective is not who he appears." Again Greg didn't stop for breath until he ran out.

"Take it easy Greg. Vartann is not one to shove his personal life in other people's faces. Some are just more reserved at work than others. It doesn't matter if you heard the shot before or after. I …" The next sentence required a deep breath. "I still wouldn't be able to say when the gun went off when I struggled with that Crane guy."

His admission halted Greg in his tracks.

"I'm sorry that I…" Greg dropped his eyes and Nick regretted having brought the incident out.

"Don't be, just tell me what happened tonight, yeah?!" pleaded Nick.

"Stop, shouldn't you comb my hair first?"

Nick released the hem of Greg's tee wondering what part of his training he actually did remember. An apology of sorts tumbled over his lips as he got out a combing kit.

"What happens to the undercover job now? I mean we can't just cancel it can we? It would put civilians at risk. Do you think they are going to send me in alone or with some random guy that I don't know? They can't cancel it, it wouldn't be right." Greg stopped when the comb got stuck in a cake of dried blood.

"I'll go in with you." said Nick as he struggled to free the comb and still balance the sheet he was collecting the particles on.

"Really?" asked Greg in profound wonder.

"Yeah, I mean if you want me to. I don't wanna impose on anything." stumbled Nick.

Nick cut his mouth off, knowing that coherency was lacking. It was something that needed to be said in the right way otherwise it would do more harm than good.

"Ah don't worry, you're not imposing there. I mean Alex is alright, but there's no big attraction lost there. More an intellectual attraction than anything else really." said Greg.

Still keeping his mouth restrained Nick only nodded as his mind translated Greg's words into the fact that Greg was attracted to him. A jubilant feeling spread in Nick even though he tried to not to.

"You are a much better catch." said Greg with a confirming smile.

Nick lost control of his mouth and it began to stutter. "I am?"

"Yeah and don't pretend that you don't know that."

~*~

Surrounded by the scent of Nick lingering in the borrowed clothes Greg walked through the halls of PD until he got to Vega's desk. The events following Nick agreeing to go undercover with him were rather hazy. But obviously he'd showered and dressed and been taken to give his statement. Detective Vega shook his hand upon arrival and motioned for him to sit. In his head the events of the night played over once again, but for some reason Greg found it difficult to word them. The yellow post-it pad caught his attention and Greg lifted one sheet from it. With eyes and fingers focused on the yellow slowly disintegrating his mouth began to work.

The small pieces of yellow lifted and whirled around for a moment when someone passed the desk, but Greg's mouth carried on regardless. Greg listened as his mouth told about the expensive Nike shoes and the weird but distinctive smell. Then the pile of yellow shifted again and the piece in his hand danced around. Another sheet left the pad and ended up torn into one very long strip reaching the floor from Greg's hand. The tale running in the background reached the point where Ecklie knelt down next to Vartann. The long strip fluttered under Greg's chair accompanied by footsteps.

"Thank you Greg. I received a text just before you came, saying that Vartann will be fine and that whoever did first aid on him had done real good." said Vega.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you did good kid." praised Vega.

"Nick and me talked about him going undercover instead of Vartann. Do you think they'll allow it? I mean they gave me a pretty hard time yesterday morning already." rushed Greg.

"That's really up to them, but they do make exceptions. Are you sure you'd be up for it though?" asked Vega, concerned.

"More than I'm up for filing another bashing case come Saturday morning, that's for sure. Besides the operation is already planned." claimed Greg.

"Hey G, you done with the statement?" asked Nick coming up behind him.

"We are. Go see Ryan now." ushered Vega.

"Who's Ryan?" asked Nick.

"The guy in charge of big undercover setups in Vegas. He briefed me yesterday morning and he needs to know that a change is being made. And allow it." mumbled Greg.

"Alright let's go then. Do we have more Ryans? Because I think Grissom talked to one on his mobile back at the scene." wondered Nick.

"There's a few uniforms named Ryan, but only… ah hang on I think Clarke's first name is Ryan. But there's no reason for him to be talking to Clarke." mused Vega.

Nick followed half a step behind as Greg made his way to Ryan's office. It felt reassuring to have Nick there and he wanted to ask why Nick hadn't come with him in the first place. But Greg didn't want to whine, he just wanted to get on with the job at hand. Then come Sunday he could sit down, think it all through and whine if necessary. A knock on the doorjamb to Ryan's office announced their arrival.

"Nick Stokes I presume." said Ryan getting up for a proper handshake.

"Yes Sir. We were wondering…"

"I've been told to send you in instead of Detective Vartann." Ryan cut in.

"You have?" marvelled Greg.

"Yes. It is against my advice though. But I understand an order as well as the next guy." stated Ryan.

"Have you been undercover before Mr. Stokes?"

"A few times, but mostly bird watching. Only very little with public interaction." answered Nick.

"Has Mr. Sanders told you the exact nature of the assignment?"

"He has. I'm to meet up with him in the club where most of the victims met. Then we're to take room 437, turn the lights on and engage in anal sex on the bed." stated Nick.

"Have you agreed on exact sexual positions?"

"Ehm yeah, I'll be on my knees facing the window and then Greg will... eh... top me." said Nick with embarrassment creeping into his voice.

"Good. Things like that need to be settled beforehand to avoid unpleasant situations. Are you single Mr. Stokes?"

"I am and yes I've had sex with men before. It's not unfamiliar territory for me." stated Nick with confidence.

"Have you ever kissed Mr. Sanders?"

"No, why?" asked Nick, slightly bewildered.

"Ashtray, dead rat or other weird tastes can get in the way of such operations when not considered."

After having gone through the same with Vartann yesterday Greg turned towards Nick. Much to his expectation Nick took the challenge and kissed him with intensity. The taste was mostly coffee and then something Greg couldn't describe better than just Nick. But the kiss itself was better than any he'd come across in a very long time. It had warmth, strength, passion and agility. Kissing Vartann had been a bland experience, like chicken curry in an international hotel compared to an Indian kitchen.

"Coffee." panted Nick.

"Good. How do you intend to dress?"

"Ehm…. Greg said that it would fine for me to go cowboy and exploit my Texan accent. It should be rather common for that club to have that kinda tourists." defended Nick.

"Good. I'm still not super happy with this. But we'll proceed as planned yesterday. There will be backup for you in the alley, that's more or less in place by now. Your mobiles will be our source of monitoring. Mobiles are continuously acquiring network so any transmission from them would be considered normal. We'll be hearing everything you say and do. There's no need for you to worry about rustling of clothes, that noise is blocked out automatically. As I stressed to Mr. Sanders and Detective Vartann you must not let this knowledge influence your acts." stated Ryan calmly, with a hint of impatience.

"So every moan and groan will be heard loud and clear?" choked Nick.

"It will Mr. Stokes and if you can't handle that, now is the time to back out."

"I'll deal. I grew up in a large family where privacy wasn't exactly something to be had." said Nick.

"You have to be absolutely certain." pressed Ryan.

"I am. I want these guys caught. Besides it wouldn't be the first time my every move were monitored." said Nick firmly.

"And that is part of my concern." stated Ryan.

"Listen up. I've been tested and tested ever since. But I'm still here doing my job and that's because I'm OK."

"We'll be fine. We just need some sleep now and then we'll nail those bastards tonight." claimed Greg, full of confidence.

"Sleep well then. You'll get your phones upgraded at Wolfe's office down the hall to the right. Good luck." said Ryan and shook their hands.

Nick hunched down in front of his open wardrobe scanning his boot collection. He needed the right pair, the pair that would say hot Texan on the prowl. It had always been that way for him; first he would pick the boots, then the hat, jeans, underwear, socks and finally the shirt. A habit he undoubtedly had picked up from his two youngest sisters who were both shoe fanatics. The white ones with the red and blue stitching caught his eye, but they were old and the left needed a new sole before he could face more than one hour in them. Nick quickly dismissed the three brown ones as too dull.

The golden pattern swirling up the black high shaft bedazzled Nick next and he had his winner. The boots were quickly donned and butt naked he continued his search for the right hat. At least he only had five to choose from and the black with the golden string became the obvious choice. Black jeans with black boots had always been his mother's peewee. She claimed it was impossible to not have one of the black look off in that combination. Thumbing through the stack of neatly folded jeans unfit for work Nick located a dark blue pair. When he'd bought them the sales guy had behaved like he was going to jump him right in the shop. And Nick had been praised for their ass enhancing quality many times.

Boots got kicked off and socks donned. Tight boxers followed by jeans left him to decide on a shirt. Shifting hangers back and forth he wondered what Greg would wear. His friend had a wide selection of outfits in various styles and some more to his liking than others. On the second prowl through his wardrobe Nick settled on the brown shirt with the funky print. It didn't quite jive with the cowboy look, but it had been a gift from one of his sisters.

Nerves demanded one last trip to the bathroom before leaving for the club. Nick sat down heavily and studied the things on his counter. It had been a long time since he'd last prepared for a night out to hook up with a guy and now he worried that his nerves would undo his preparations. The enema kit and the lubricant on the counter mocked him with their presence as his bowels rumbled and made empty threats. Knowing that he had to leave Nick finished off and slipped a few condom wrappers in his jeans pocket and the travel sized tube of lubricant.

The club had a decent line outside, but good looks and a clean face always got you in faster. The music playing invited for dirty dancing and soon Nick found his body moving accordingly. The crowd offered something for pretty much any taste, but was of course dominated by twinks. A tall slender Scandinavian type caught his eye, the nose nice and straight like Greg's, but this guy could undoubtedly bend Nick in half without breaking a sweat over the exertion. On the dance floor right in front of him a group had dressed like the Village People much to his bemusement. A few hardcore leather guys pushed by him and one of them pinched his butt hard.

Instinct made him turn with his right hand drawing back.

"Hey Cowboy, haven't I seen you before." came the familiar voice, halting him in his tracks.

"Depends, ever been to Dallas?" drawled Nick.

Greg just smiled and raised a suggestive eyebrow before flowing out onto the dance floor. Stunned Nick's eyes followed the dark grey tailored suit. In all the time he'd known Greg he'd never seen him dressed like a businessman. But Greg looked the part and it would go hand in hand with Greg topping. A slender hand waved for him to enter the sweaty mass of bodies loosing themselves to the music. Nick did as commanded, ignoring the protest issued by his feet who had suddenly remembered what cowboy boots were designed for. An arm snaked around his neck.

"What." breathed Greg against his ear.

"My boots, they're meant for ridin', not dancin'."

"So what do you ride cowboy, a big fat Harley?" suggested Greg.

The crowd pushed them together. The heat from Greg nudged his libido into action. A number of cheesy comebacks drifted through his mind.

"Depends." was the cleverest thing Nick's mind could deliver.

The music changed to a slower rhythm and Nick lost himself to Greg leading him. A little voice in the back of his mind tried in vain to remind him to be observant of the crowd. Nick rested his head on Greg's shoulder idly looking for somebody ready to punch them. However the crowd became blurry when Greg groped his ass and nibbled on his earlobe. Hips swayed to the music and contacted with each other leaving no doubt as to what the level of attraction was. Nick craved Greg's body, mind and soul at that instant with a force not long explored.

"Whadda ya say we get a room?" suggested Nick, imitating his brother's worst pickup line.

"Sounds good." breathed Greg and rubbed his pelvis against Nick's.

The annoying voice of reason reminded Nick that is was easy to get into trouble when attraction took over. It also nagged him to keep an eye open on his surroundings. They walked shoulder by shoulder exchanging flirtatious suggestions. The hotel had a shabby quality with worn furniture in the lounge. Greg walked up to the desk, filling out the suit like a true man of power. Nick wondered why nobody had seen that side of Greg before, but then again he didn't advertise all about himself either.

"We'd like a room for the night." demanded Greg.

"Sure, be out by 6 am." yawned the unshaven receptionist.

"Oh 437, that's my lucky number, can we have that room?" asked Greg when the hand going for the key rested at 422.

"Whatever, but I ain't never heard of anyone with a 3 digit lucky number before." said the receptionist somewhat more interested.

"Well you ain't met me before. Four plus three equals seven, and it only has two divisors." started Greg only to be cut off by the receptionist calling the next couple forward.

"19 and 23." realized Nick at the lift.

"Right on, and should he'd had asked it would have been the birthdays for my parents." smiled Greg.

The lift carried another two couples up to the same floor and despite the fact that they were all there with the same intention; all kept a nice civil distance with no public display of affection. For Nick that changed the second he closed the door. Greg pushed him against the wall and landed a hard uncontrolled kiss on Nick's mouth causing teeth to clash. Nick snaked a hand along the wall until he found the light switch and flicked it. The tacky room didn't matter, only the bed and Greg meant anything to him. Hands eagerly groped under his shirt trailing muscles and pinching nipples. With every notion to do the same Nick struggled with Greg's suit.

"Relax Cowboy, you'll get yours." crooned Greg.

The loud but normally timid Greg that he'd known for years had been replaced by a man-eating monster. Under normal circumstances that would have sent Nick running, but for once he had more reasons for staying than running.

"The name's Greg by the way. And I like to hear it when I make your day."

"N-Nick. I'm Nick." said Nick wondering when he'd lost the ability to talk properly.

Eight limbs made a combined effort to undress and steer towards the bed.

"God, you're beautiful." gasped Greg in admiration.

Nick knew that, but he was busy feasting his eyes on the long muscles adorning Greg's bones. There was a harmony to Greg's body that he could never achieve with his shorter muscles, they would bulge out instead of sculpt. It was far from the first time that he'd seen Greg naked, but showers at work had never included erections.

"Kneel on the bed." growled Greg.

A quick look out the window only yielded dark offices across. Then hands caressed Nick's flanks and all notions of the assignment drifted away again. Appreciative sounds came from Greg as Nick felt his backside explored.

"Oh somebody has been a good boy scout and prepared." said Greg in a devilishly seductive voice.

It was his cue to make some lame scout remark, but again Nick failed. It was just sex, so really he should be able to notice things and talk. However that thought dissipated when fingers entered his body. The invasion forced a primal sound of acceptance from Nick. It had been a long time since he'd last used his body for sex. But the uneasiness that he'd feared never really settled, instead the need to get off took over. Nick raised and twisted his head in search of a kiss, noticing their clothes draped nicely over a chair. His effort was rewarded with an open-mouthed tongue duel.

"Ready?" whispered Greg.

Again failed by his extensive vocabulary Nick grunted and pushed back against Greg. The blunt burning feeling subsided slowly helped with soothing words and caresses. A rhythm was quickly established and Nick obeyed the arm pulling his torso up to vertical. Lazy eyes surveyed the dark building across and closed whenever the brain was hit with an overload of sensations. Breaths became shallow, muscles cramped and skin glistened with sweat.

"Feel… so… good!" panted Greg in his ear.

Wind swooshed past his face picking him up. The blue sky and the white clouds swirled around Nick. The warm arm across his chest tightened its grip bringing him higher until the wind roared in his ears. Screaming out the only thing Nick could remember his body released all tension.

"Love… to hear… my… name." forced Greg between gasps.

The orgasm still had Nick in a hard grip and he struggled to hold his body up. The rhythm changed from steady to erratic leaving Greg to howl with satisfaction. The precarious balance was overthrown landing them flat on the bed. Nick was hot, with semen sticking to his belly and Greg sweating on his back, but not unpleasantly hot. Breaths slowed and deepened.

"Man that was good." said Greg and eased out and off.

Nick propped up on an elbow to look at the sated man next to him. Despite the weird shirts and funky hair, Greg's face had always been a good place to look. The straight nose and the intense eyes had fascinated Nick many times in the years that he'd known Greg.

"Are you kiddin' me man? That was awesome." whispered Nick.

The smile on Greg's face was priceless and Nick leaned in for a kiss. One kiss turned into many accompanied by hands trailing over sweaty bodies. Mildly surprised Nick found that a watch had landed within easy sight on the nightstand.

"Have you got somewhere to be Cowboy?" asked Greg playfully.

"Not yet." answered Nick, equally full of play.

~*~

"Well why don't you put on the hat and the boots and show me your riding style?" suggested Greg.

Technically they were going off script, but Greg felt certain that Nick was up for it and it was easier to kill time that way. A dirty smile played across Nick's lips as he rolled over and got up. The smile was replaced by a tongue protruding in concentration when feet got pressed into boots. In itself not an unfamiliar sight, but Greg doubted he'd be able to concentrate on a scene if he caught Nick with his tongue like that again. He quickly suppressed the reminder of them actually working now and realized why there were professional undercover cops. He and Nick could be in for a rough future if they failed to sort out whatever they had let loose tonight.

"Suit up." demanded Nick as he crawled back onto the bed.

"Why don't you help me out?"

Greg held out a foil wrapper and exchanged it for a kiss. The pillows got piled under his back in silent agreement. The devotion Nick showed his body felt good; nipples may be considered redundant on the male body, but they still held a bundle of nerves to be stimulated. The cool breeze blown over the recently suckled one had Greg arching up and crying out.

The cold leather pressed against his sides as Nick commenced to ride him. The intense smell of sex mingled with leather and sweat made Greg wish for the ability to store it in potions. Any fantasy he'd ever indulged in faded with each moved Nick made. The present moment pushed away all thoughts of past and future. In Greg's world there was only Nick, naked and riding him with skill. Hips dipped, rotated and pushed up providing stimulation.

"You like?"

Nick's voice low and the words tainted with a strong southern accent.

"Love." Greg forced out.

"Good." panted Nick.

To begin with Nick had been keeping space between their bodies, but as he upped the paced he closed the distance. The press of the hot slick body combined with the strong tongue playing with his brought Greg to the edge. Images of DNA strings twirling, twisting and breaking overtook his mind, pushing the rush through his entire system. With a rapid heartbeat Greg tried his best to keep up the rhythm to help bring Nick off as well. The hat flew off when Nick thrashed wildly around crying out his second orgasm.

It pleased Greg to see Nick let go like that. It was no secret that Nick had passion, but to see it up close and personal added a nice dimension. A soft snore from Nick made Greg smile. He drank in the fragrance of Nick, some he gathered would be repulsed by the mix of sex, leather and sweat, but he could see himself developing an unhealthy addiction. The heavy body covering him invited to be touched, memorized and cherished. Greg ran a hand over Nick's back feeling the strong muscles. The other hand moved to Nick's head, caressing along the hairline and running through the dark hair. A mole, a scar, a muscle Greg couldn't remember the name of and many other small details stored in his mind.

~*~

Slowly the wind died and Nick returned to the conscious world. It was warm and comfortable, but unfamiliar. Not wanting to draw attention to himself Nick let the fog of sleep clear in its own time. The undercover operation and mind blowing sex with Greg slowly presented to him. There were hands caressing his body. That wasn't part of the plan. But their second intercourse had also been uncalled for. Idly Nick wondered if his offer to Greg had been such a good idea after all. It would be hard going back to normal after having tried something so good. The hand lying closest to Greg's face made a decision on its own and let the fingers run gently over damp curls.

"I thought I heard cogs turning." whispered Greg.

"Mmh, fancy a shower?"

"Well if I've worn you out already." smirked Greg.

"What's the time?" asked Nick too lazy to raise his head.

"Almost four." said Greg after having twisted his head baring his throat to Nick's hungry mouth.

One last intense kiss marked the end. Nick reluctantly got up and headed to the bathroom. A shower before going out into an ambush sounded good to him. But the state of the bathroom made him suddenly very glad that he was still wearing his boots. The floor tiles were cracked to a state where you could no longer tell the original pattern. On the wall only a few tiles had kept up appearance and the glass wall surrounding the shower was a maze of cracks and splinters. Greg patted up behind him and rested his head on Nick's shoulder.

"Now that is disgusting!" exclaimed Greg.

"I think I'll settle for a piss." grumbled Nick.

"Yeah, anyway showers are just another commercial hype." stated Greg before turning away.

Nick put on the mental blinkers and made his way to the toilet. The crime scene yesterday, the hot sex tonight and the almost certain attack lying in wait, closed in on him. It had been an intense 24 hours. In fact, mused Nick, the whole week had been very intense and definitely called for a good day off.

"You done?" asked Greg.

As sexy as Nick had felt earlier, he felt just as unsexy when Greg entered the bathroom fully dressed.

"Yeah, I'm done."

Apparently Greg had noticed the state of the floor as they undressed, because Nick couldn't remember draping any clothes over the solitary chair in the room. The carpet seemed to have at least one of any type of stain ever to have existed. Quickly Nick dressed, ignoring the room, instead focusing on the building across. The jerks had to come from somewhere and the small offices seemed like the most obvious. For all their digging they had not been able to get in touch with all the occupants. Some had been away on vacation, others out for the rest of the day and some had just never got back to them.

~*~

Greg returned to the room where the kindest man he'd ever met waited for him. With a less heart-felt smile Greg realized that Nick was probably just waiting for them to be on their way. The horrible hotel room stood in stark contrast to Nick, like bad to good and dark to light. He banished all the could-be's and focused on the job at hand. It was simple. Leave the hotel, go to the parking lot and get bashed somewhere along the way.

"So Nick, do you need a lift? Taxies aren't really to be had around here at this time of night."

"If it ain't out of your way. I'm staying at my sista's place up north." drawled Nick, falling back into his part.

"I'm heading up towards Charleston myself, so no trouble." assured Greg as they left the room.

An Out of order sign now dangled on the lift. An image of the staircase from last night caused an involuntary shiver in Greg. His mouth dried up as the last 36 hours played out on fast forward in his head. A warm hand enclosed his, grounding him for the moment. He gave Nick a quick smile of gratitude, thanking him wordlessly for being there. There was still more to be piled on his plate before he could kick back and sort through all that had happened.

"Just leave the key on the counter." said the receptionist, who had fortified himself behind a newspaper.

Silent, shoulder by shoulder, they walked into the alley. A place scarcely lit and plenty of shadows to go around. It was just as nerve wracking as the chess club's annual challenge to sneak into the locker rooms and spray the jocks clothes with women's perfume.

The foot that connected with his ribs took him by surprise.

A/N: Technically I know that real undercover operations would not demand actual intercourse, but let's all take a leap of faith here. Besides passing up on good sex is not something that I believe in.

The sound alerted Nick before his eyes noticed anything. Half turned towards Greg a blow was delivered to his head with medium force. Slightly off keel Nick spun towards his attacker with his right arm rushing forward. His fist found flesh and his stomach pain. Nick brought his right knee up towards the groin of the man delivering blow after blow to him. But the guy strafed, making Nick struggle for balance. A howl of pain from Greg caught Nick off guard and his right arm was yanked back and down. With no choice but to follow Nick lashed out with his left arm.

"Freeze LVPD!" shouted Brass.

His left hand punched right into the face of his attacker and teeth broke skin.

Then the alley was lit up like day and swarming with uniformed legs. A few feet away Greg's still form was lying on the ground. Nick used his right arm for support as he got up, but the arm refused and he dropped again. Crabbing his way towards Greg all Nick could think of was that he'd lost him for good. The chest wasn't rising like it should.

Nick's throat was sore from screaming Greg's name to get his attention even before he'd gotten over to him. But the body remained unmoving.

"Nick. NICK. NICHOLAS STOKES!" shouted Brass. "Nick give the EMTs some room will ya." he commanded.

"Why ain't he breathin'? What's wrong with him?" croaked Nick.

There were a lot of things happening in the alley, but Nick couldn't find the energy to take an active part. Twice, in as many days, had he seen Greg in a bad situation. Nick had failed to protect his friend. It took him a moment to realize that Grissom had squatted down next to him.

"Nick?" Grissom asked with a rare tenderness.

"Greg took a kick to the chest. And it probably just pushed out the air in his lungs. He'll be fine." said Grissom after an acknowledging nod.

"I let him down." whispered Nick.

"No you didn't, he knew what the risks were. Come on, let's get you into the ambulance." guided Grissom.

"I'm alright." stated Nick as accent free as he could.

"You still need to be checked out at the hospital." said Grissom, slightly impatient.

"I don't wanna leave him." pleaded Nick.

"Strap him in the front. The backup rig got called out to a big accident." one of the EMTs broke in.

Nick reluctantly let Grissom help him to his feet. Nick's eyes were glued to Greg's body being lifted onto a gurney as he was led to the ambulance. Somewhere far off Grissom was telling him that they had it all on camera and that the bust had gone down perfectly. That he and Greg had done well. Deep down Nick felt he should say something, but he couldn't.

"OK, easy now. I'm just gonna fasten the seatbelt." said Grissom as he leaned in over Nick.

Nick wanted to turn and look into the back, but his body didn't really respond. The doors shut and the guy next to him said something. The autopilot running his brain had probably said the right thing, because the ambulance set in motion with horns and lights.

Intersections and cars created a funky world of colored lights that was replaced with white. Once out of the ambulance he kept a close eye on Greg, there was no way he would let him down again. White uniforms said things to him often blocking his line of sight, much to his dislike.

A bolt of pain shot through his right shoulder, claiming his full attention.

"What the fuck are you doin'?" cried Nick at the white clad person next to him.

"Resetting your shoulder. It was dislocated." said Dr. R. Wilson, according to his nametag.

"Dislocated?" said Nick nonplussed.

"Yes sir, dislocated. I've been trying to tell you that for five minutes. So I figured I might just as well set it straight to get your attention." complained Dr. R. Wilson.

"How's Greg doing?"

"Your friend is doing better. I'm guessing that he has a fractured rib or two. And that he passed out from lack of oxygen."

"He was just laying there." said Nick, downcast.

"Listen your concern is admirable, but they need to X-ray him. So he'll be wheeled out of here in a moment. And you have a head wound that requires stitching."

Nick lifted his left hand to his face. He couldn't remember being hit in the head, but his hand came away bloody. Confused he looked up at the doctor and then back to Greg. The dark lashes fluttered and Greg emitted a low groan of pain.

"Good morning Mr. Sanders. You're at Desert Palms and your friend Nick is here." said Dr. R. Wilson gently.

"Hey Nick." said Greg drowsily.

"Hey Buddy."

"Did we get ‘em?" asked Greg.

"We got ‘em alright." said Nick proudly.

"Cool, I think I've dented a rib." complained Greg.

"You'll be taken to X-ray soon. Just take it easy and no deep or sudden breaths." said Dr. Wilson.

The doctor sat to stitch Nick back together after Greg got wheeled out. Nick listened with half an ear as the doctor instructed him on how to care for his shoulder and wounds. It wasn't exactly the first time he'd been patched up. The Lidocaine numbed the needle piercing his skin and the pain in his shoulder became more distant as the Vicodin entered his system. The worst sting came from his left hand being cleaned by a nurse. Apart from a few hours, the past week had been one of the real bad ones, the kind that Nick wished he could forget by snapping his fingers. But often those weeks stayed for longer in fresh memory.

Relaxed by the drugs Nick leaned back on the hospital bed and replayed the few but intense hours in the hotel room. Any other time, any other man, and Nick doubted he would have gone that far. There was something about Greg, something good and trustworthy. The devil's advocate piped up telling him that it was part of the job, that he was only a replacement for Vartann. But Nick countered that with the memory of Greg's sweet caresses when he'd come too. His thoughts were disturbed by Greg being wheeled back into the room. Before Nick got to form words a new doctor entered the room.

"Mr. Sanders, I'm Dr. Aaron Halland. I'm sure that you are quite aware of the pain in your chest."

"Broken or dented and how many?" asked Greg.

"One simple fracture on the sixth, left side, nothing out of place. Have you tried it before?" laughed Dr. Halland.

"No but I take lessons in kick-boxing." stated Greg.

"Yeah I see a lot of those who lost. So basically you just want to take it easy for the first two three weeks. And you should be back to full function after eight weeks. I'm going to prescribe you some painkillers and it would be a good idea to ice the area 20 minutes four maybe five times a day for the first few days."

"Do I risk puncture my lung if I overdo it?" asked Greg concerned.

"No, the muscle tissue should hold the rib in place. Besides the pain from breathing will tell you to stop before any damage can be done. But it's important that you breathe normally. Shallow breaths will further the risk of infection. This is where the painkillers come in, are you allergic to any?"

"Not that I know of. Does that mean I can go home now?" asked Greg hopeful.

"It does indeed. I'll get your papers done and find a leaflet with the basic information. It could take a while, they're flooding us after a big pile up. But a nurse will come in with something for the pain soon Mr. Sanders." said Dr. Halland and shook Greg's hand.

"Nice headgear." commented Greg.

"I guess I took a blow to the head." said Nick with a deep sigh.

"Sorry ‘bout that, but it was like kicking a tree down, dude." apologized Greg.

"Yeah mine wasn't exactly a softie either."

"How bad are you? I mean you seem to have bandages all over." asked Greg.

"It's nothin' really, dislocated shoulder and a fight bite. Oh yeah and a few stitches. I'm guessing that his ring caused that." reasoned Nick.

"Sounds reasonable. You know those Caterpillar boots are really heavy."

"Greg?" asked Nick gathering courage for more. "When I woke up…"

"I was enjoying the moment and I didn't mean to offend you in any way." rushed Greg.

"Relax, it was nice." said Nick, his voice slowed by drugs and his accent more pronounced.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"We'll have to talk about it you know. We can do it now or wait till the debriefing and hash it out in public." said Greg uneasy.

"Now sounds good." mumbled Nick.

"They'll want to make sure that I didn't hurt you." said Greg.

"You didn't. Hey did you kiss Vartann like Ryan had us kiss?" wondered Nick.

"I did and for the record, you beat him by miles." said Greg smiling.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Have some confidence man, you're great." complimented Greg. "Actually I'm glad that it was you and not him tonight. It helps being attracted…"

Greg trailed off as a nurse pushed the door open. Nick winced in sympathy with Greg as the nurse helped him up to take the tablets and water. Contradicting thoughts filled Nick's head, but reason bid him to find out what Greg really meant and not rush into anything that could ruin their careers and lives.

"I think we've opened Pandora's Box." said Greg after the nurse left.

"Ain't the world supposed to end then?" asked Nick.

"Nah, Pandora's box is sort of the Greek version of Eve eating the apple. But what I meant was that we've seen something good. Something that could backfire if…" stumbled Greg unable to find the words.

"If only one of us meant it could be more." continued Nick.

His heart was racing and he struggled with a lump in his throat. But Greg had made a very good point about them needing to discuss it before the debriefing.

"Do you want more?" whispered Greg.

"Do you?" dared Nick.

"Damn Nick, where's your girly side? With the risk of ruining everything. Yes I want more. I want to feel good again." hazarded Greg.

"So do I." said Nick hoping that his heart would calm down now that he felt more convinced about Greg.

The door burst open as Grissom and Ecklie entered. Both men looked upset and Nick feared that something had gone dead wrong.

"Hi Grissom." said Greg happily.

"Hello Greg. How are you?" said Grissom immediately relaxing.

"Good, nice meds and a broken rib. Nick's a bit worse for wear though." grinned Greg.

"The nurse out front was utterly clueless and it took a while to find your room." said Grissom as he sank heavily onto the chair the doctor had used when he'd stitched Nick up.

"We're fine. They just have to do the paperwork and then we can go. How's Vartann?" asked Nick.

"He's okay, he lost some blood and it took them a while to put the tissue back together. But he'll be out of here once the inflammation goes down." said Ecklie.

"Can we visit him?" asked Greg.

Grissom and Ecklie exchanged a quick glance and then with a shrug Ecklie stated. "Sure why not."

Ecklie left to find their papers, but came back fast with a less pleased face.

"Incompetent fools. Apparently some doctor has to sign them and he's nowhere to be found. But I've been allowed to take you up to Alex. And then return here in an hour to get your papers." he grumbled .

~*~

It must have looked funny to those they passed as he leaned on Ecklie for support and Nick on Grissom. But no laughter was heard in the halls of Desert Palms. The painkillers had kicked in good and Greg felt slightly afloat. Their visit with Alex was short, but the two supervisors left them alone for most of it claiming they had important calls to make. Vartann was even more drugged up than them, but satisfied that the operation had worked. Greg did notice Nick covertly glance at Vartann, almost like an athlete at the starting line checking out his opponents.

"Nice outfits! I gotta say Sanders I never thought you'd look that sharp in a suit."

"Well Papa Olaf ordered it for me when I passed my profiency and I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wouldn't be wearing it to work." said Greg

"What is it they say Nick, you can take the boy out of Texas, but never…"

"Texas out of the boy." finished Nick using his accent.

"Hey Sanders did you forget to tell Nick what kind of men I prefer?" asked Vartann.

Nick looked up with a sheepish expression on his face. Greg hoped that his smile didn't look too goofy, but the medicine had warped his world.

"I must've forgot." snickered Greg. "Older guys, not youngsters and not beefcakes. Hey does that mean you're with Ecklie?"

"No. That would be wrong." stated Vartann.

"Why?" asked a very confused Nick.

"He's my cousin, but I grew up with his family, so more of a brother really." explained Vartann impatiently, like it was a well-known fact.

The desire to reach out and touch the dumbstruck Nick was hard to dismiss, but Greg figured that it wouldn't be welcomed.

"So was it good?" asked Vartann with a suggestive smile.

"And then some." managed Greg just before Ecklie and Grissom re-entered.

"OK Ryan wants you in for a debriefing and then it's home for the both of you." stated Ecklie.

"Any news on what had gone down in that horrid place?" asked Vartann.

"Yeah well not much. Sara said that it appears to have started out as a stage for a highschool movie project." began Grissom.

"So some of the blood spray was actual decoration?" wondered Greg.

"It came up non-human, pig most likely, but I'm not briefed on the details yet. However some teenage jealousy thing should lie behind one of the kids exchanging his fake knife for the real deal." Grissom paused drawing in a controlled breath. "It then turns out that most of them are carrying and the kid in the closet made a narrow escape from the mayhem and hid in there."

"He most have been terrified then when I opened the door." realized Vartann quietly.

"Where is he now?" asked Greg, unable to remember the fate of the kid.

"In the hospital, Catherine dropped him with a shot to his right arm and shoulder." announced Ecklie.

"I think it's time for you two to go home and rest." hinted Grissom.

"I just need to get my car." remembered Greg.

"Give me the keys and I'll make sure that it gets home to you. You have tonight off right?" said Grissom.

"Yeah and Monday as well."

"You'll be on sick leave for a week and then we'll take it from there. Nick, what did the doctor tell you?" demanded Grissom.

"Not to put too much strain on my right shoulder for a couple of days. And that the stitches need to come out in five days."

"Well that's it then, you're both on leave until next Sunday. And then we'll take it from there." said Grissom. "Now let's go get your papers."

Again they travelled the halls of Desert Palms assisted by Grissom and Ecklie. Greg wondered just how big that accident had been for the hospital to ignore the rule about always wheeling patients around. The Emergency Room was pure chaos when they returned and it took Ecklie a while to be heard and obeyed. Grissom drove them to the police station in silence. Their debriefing went pretty much the way Greg had expected with Nick being asked repeatedly if he in any way felt hurt. Ryan also gave them the run down of what had happened in the alley and cleared their phones.

He hadn't really seen much after the kick to his chest, so Ryan's word filled in quite a few blanks. The perps had jumped them when they'd entered the least lit part of the alley. The workman had kicked him and the ring-man had struck Nick from behind. The cameraman had caught the whole thing and Ryan had intentionally waited until there was clear evidence of an attack. Greg had spun round and kicked his opponent hard enough for the workman not to get any more punches in. When the police had announced their presence he'd passed out, consistent with the kick having pumped most of the air out of his lungs. Nick's attacker had gotten a few good blows in, but also received quite a few.

"Are they being interviewed now?" asked Greg.

He wanted to understand their motives, wanted to know what had made them snap.

"Brass has got one in Interview A and Curtis has the other one in B. But neither of you are allowed in there!" stressed Ryan.

Slower and with less ease than normal they walked towards the interrogation rooms. The stress of the last days started to present itself with aching joints, making Greg wish for a long hot shower. A week off would come in handy and give him time to sort through the mess left in his brain. Nick turned on the intercom allowing them to hear what the workman had to say to Sofia's accusations. The guy sat hunched over and refused to talk. But after 5 minutes Sofia finally succeeded.

"Todd Benton, your address is in Nebraska, what are you doing in Vegas?" asked Sofia.

"Working for God."

"God? How long have you been doing that?"

Todd Benton just shrugged his shoulders.

"What's the name of your church?"

The name made Greg turn and walk away.

"You know that one?" asked Nick following him.

"Sort of. I saw a show on one of the local channels with their almighty preacher a while back."

"Why? I didn't think you were into religion." asked Nick.

"I'm not, but I still want to learn. Staying informed is better than passing ungrounded judgment." said Greg, matter of factly.

"So what're they about?"

"Making Hitler look friendly."

"Wow."

"No, not really. That preacher guy is all about cleaning up the world, high ambitions, and anyone not white, straight and God fearing is to be considered the enemy and not talked to." said Greg bitterly.

~*~

Curiosity had driven Nick to the next interrogation room to see if the other guy was just as insane. Greg hung back, leaning on the wall with a numb expression. It wasn't the first time that he'd faced an attacker of his, but Nick couldn't even work up the energy to be angry with the ring-man. The guy was talking, but it was painstakingly clear that he was a follower. There seemed to be no independent thought in his head. As he was about to leave Brass finally got the guy to admit what they'd been doing in that alley. All things considered it was no surprise that they had been cleaning in an office in the building overlooking the hotel. An office that belonged to a firm they hadn't been able to contact all week.

"Let's get out of here." pleaded Greg from behind him.

"You got it."

Nick turned away. There was no need for them to stay and listen to more. He wanted a shower badly and hated that he wasn't allowed to get his hand nor his head wet.

"How about that shower now?" suggested Greg.

"Sounds good, but…." He shook his head slightly, letting his raised left hand tell the rest.

"You want some help with that dude?"

"If you're offerin'"

"Hey you got that new big bed last year. It would be perfect for my weary bones." Greg flirted back.

"Let's see if we can hitch a ride then, but don't you need all your fancy shampoos?"

"I can go natural in exchange for a good sleep."

Two hours later Nick stretched out on his bed next to Greg. The shower project had been precarious to say the least, but he felt clean. Greg had done his best to help, but had repeatedly been stopped by the pain in his chest. Nick eased onto his left side and watched the icepack heaving in sync with Greg's breathing. With care Greg twisted his neck to look at him flashing a genuine Greg-smile. Not sure what to say Nick let his right hand drop into Greg's. Fingers caressed and touched, symbolizing what their bodies wanted to do, but couldn't.

THE END

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