title: Discovery
fandom: CSI: Vegas
pairing: Gil/Nick/Warrick
rating: R
author: nancy
email: the_tenth_muse1@yahoo.com
website: http://www.thetenthmuse1.madbrilliant.com/
feedback: yes, please!
archive: let me know!
summary: Neither Nick nor Martin know how to ask for help which does, of course, result in a lot of problems for both teams. (CSI/Without A Trace cross over).

37 Hours Missing

The flight was smooth and uninterrupted, which was both good and bad. It was good because that meant a straight shot to Las Vegas. It was bad because sitting next to Martin for hours at a time in a confined space was a form of torture. Martin was just sprawled in the seat, his long legs angled inward so as not to trip anyone, which put them in constant rubbing contact of Jack’s legs whenever one of them shifted.

Jack had immediately pulled out his laptop and tried to work, but having the younger man in such close contact made his concentration factor nil. Finally giving up about an hour in, he sighed and closed the file, pulling up the solitaire game.

“Black two on the red three, there in the corner,” Martin mumbled, nudging him.

Glancing at Martin, Jack said, “I saw it.”

A lazy grin spread across Martin’s face. “Sure you did.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm. Think I will.”

Martin shifted and closed his eyes again, yawning hugely before his breathing settled into that of sleep. Thank God, because that sleepy look on his face just about killed Jack. It showed him an even more vulnerable Martin than he’d been privy to and made him want to see more.

Shaking his head, Jack continued his game, but it was half-hearted. His thoughts were centered solely on the young man at his side, sleeping so trustfully, as if Jack alone held his demons at bay. Maybe he did. Sighing, Jack contemplated Martin for a long moment, noting the strain still tight around the eyes and the stubble that wasn’t normally present. Martin had been using the ‘running late’ excuse a lot, and Jack hadn’t had the heart to admonish him about it.

Something was eating Martin up from the inside and it killed Jack that he couldn’t do anything about it. Not since the Reyes shooting had Martin been so off-kilter and, while it might be part of the problem, it wasn’t the whole. He’d been on edge and crossed a few lines over the last few weeks that had Jack close to writing him up officially, no matter how he felt personally.

The fact that Jack had had to grab Martin’s arm while interrogating a suspect because he’d thought the younger man was going to do something drastic and stupid told him just how bad things were. He’d brought it up a few times, but Martin had always brushed him off, insisting that he was fine.

There were a few reasons that he’d insisted on Martin coming down to Las Vegas on this case. The first of which being that Martin definitely needed a change of scenery, and he knew the younger man would never agree to taking time off on his own. And if Jack made it an order, things would probably just get worse. The second of which being that the case was not a priority; they knew Mastroianni was in Las Vegas, they just didn’t know where. Technically, it had ceased to become a missing person’s case the moment they knew for sure, but Jack had used the Blue Flu and the convention as a case for collecting the mob informant personally.

The last reason…well…Jack had noticed just how good of friends Martin and Brown had gotten to be, and the way he’d taken to Grissom, too, when the CSI’s had been up north. Except for Danny, Martin didn’t really have any friends in New York, and Danny had been busy with unexpected family stuff, with no time leftover for Martin. He was hoping that if Martin didn’t feel like he could talk to Jack, than he would talk to someone he considered a friend.

Jack wasn’t all that sure if coming to Las Vegas would help, but it sure as hell couldn’t hurt.

* * * *

Nick woke lazily, spooned from behind by Gil and laying on Warrick’s chest. The sun was going down, but he was plenty warm in their new bed, in their new house, in their new neighborhood, and sighed in deep contentment. They’d moved in the weekend before and were only just now settled in. Three men who’d lived alone all their adult lives collected an amazing amount of shit. It had taken forever to get everything sorted out and work had been so busy that they hadn’t been able to take any time off.

They had, however, told Catherine and Sara just the weekend before and that had definitely been an interesting night.

Chuckling to himself as he remembered Catherine’s shriek of laughter and Sara’s dumbfounded expression, Nick squirmed carefully out of his lovers’ embraces and climbed off the bed by hopping nimbly over Warrick. One of the reasons he was always ‘monkey in the middle,’ as he liked to complain: Warrick didn’t wake up that clearly, and Gil wasn’t up for jumping over living bodies at any time, it just wasn’t something that he did.

Dead ones on the other hand…

Nick snorted wryly at the thought and padded silently to the bathroom to take care of business, then into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker which was Catherine’s housewarming present. He leaned into the steam and breathed it in before moving to the fridge and taking out butter, milk, and creamer.

Being the early riser, Nick always put breakfast together so the other two would have something in their stomachs aside from gallons of coffee. It hadn’t surprised him, when they’d all first gotten together, to find out that neither man ate breakfast, except on the run. Gil was too engrossed in the paper to notice the time and Warrick slept late.

He had just put bread in the toaster when strong arms surrounded him from behind. He didn’t even need to look down to identify which man it was; Warrick put his arms around Nick’s shoulders, and Gil went for the waist. Nick was sure it was because Gil had a dirtier mind, despite his more innocent demeanor, since his hands inevitably roamed south during their encounters.

Warm lips touched his throat and Gil murmured, “Morning.”

Leaning back in the embrace, Nick craned his neck around for a proper good morning kiss then pulled free with, “Morning,” and grabbed the toast that had sprung up, golden brown.

Gil swatted him on the butt with the newspaper and Nick glared at him, wagging a finger. “Don’t start something we don’t have time to finish.”

Chuckling, Gil set the paper on the table and moved to the coffeemaker, saying, “Consider it a promissory note.”

“Uh huh,” Nick muttered, putting in more toast. “So what’re we doing about the back yard?”

“Reforestation?”

“Very funny.”

“If you want it, the job’s yours, Nicky,” Gil informed him, smiling.

Surprised, and a little disappointed, Nick asked, “You don’t want to work on it with me?”

Putting down the coffee cup he’d just picked up, Gil took Nick’s hands and drew him in close. “I love you, but there’s no way I’m working in a yard in 80+ weather, which is a good portion of the year. I’ll supervise.”

Eyes rolling, Nick retorted, “Yeah, I guess it’s what you’re good at.”

Gil pushed him back against the counter, grinning as he said, “That’s not all I’m good at. Care for a demonstration?”

“I’d love one,” Warrick prompted from the side.

Nick wiggled out of the embrace and replied, “I am not going to be late again because of you two, so just hands off, got it?”

Which was, apparently, the exact wrong thing to say. He caught the lusty looks in both sets of eyes, dark and light, and ran for it. He made it all the way back to the bedroom before Warrick grabbed him from behind and tackled him to the bed. Laughing, he squirmed as hard as he could, but Warrick was totally all over him.

There were kisses and heavy handed caresses pushing him into the mattress and Nick tried to roll over to get better access, but Warrick was too heavy for him. In the darkness, with the sun down and no lights on, everything suddenly spiraled out of control: the familiar shapes loomed at him as twisted shadows, Warrick’s hands grew hard and cruel, his body pinned to the bed felt restrained and confined, even though he knew none of it was real.

“Get off! Get off! Please get off,” he whimpered, freezing into immobility.

Instantly, Warrick was gone and he was alone in the bed as his lover called out, “Gil! Get in here! He’s having an episode!”

Curled into a ball, holding his knees to his chest, Nick flinched at the words. He knew nothing that had just happened was real, he knew it, but he couldn’t make himself open his eyes.

The bed dipped gently and Gil was beside him, his hands soft and cool against Nick’s overheated face and neck as he soothed, “It’s okay, Nicky, there’s nothing here that will hurt you. You’re safe now, you’re home.”

Nick grabbed one of the hands and pulled him close, wrapping the arm around himself protectively. Gil obliged by spooning up behind him and whispering, “Everything’s all right now. You’re safe here, we’ll protect you, Nicky, I swear.”

Opening his eye a crack, Nick saw that the room was lit now, and it was the same, comforting bedroom it had been when he’d woken up. Craning his head around, he found Gil’s worried blue eyes staring at him only inches away. “I’m sorry.”

Relief spread across Gil’s face and he kissed Nick, saying, “Nothing to be sorry about, Nicky, absolutely nothing.”

Warrick peeked over Gil’s shoulder and Nick held out his other hand. Warrick took it and climbed over Gil and Nick, surrounding Nick from the other side. “I’m so sorry, man, I didn’t even think. I shouldn’t have jumped you in the dark like that.”

Shaking his head, Nick countered, “Not your fault, ‘Rick, totally not. Don’t know why you two want to stick around a headcase like me.”

“Hey, none of that,” Gil reproved softly. “You’re not a headcase.”

“Most of the time,” Warrick teased.

Snorting, Nick started to relax against them, letting his lovers support him. He sighed deeply, shivering a little from the backlash of the attack. What a way to start the day.

* * * *

“Sara, you just need to deal with it,” Catherine said quietly. “It’s a fact of our lives now and they aren’t going to change their relationship because you’re having trouble handling it.”

Leaning against the car, Sara demanded, just as quiet, “It doesn’t bother you? The three of them together?”

“As long as Gil doesn’t play favorites, which you know that he doesn’t, then no, it doesn’t bother me. They’re happy and that makes me happy. And have you seen how mellow Gil’s been? That can only be a good thing,” Catherine finished wryly.

Snorting, Sara agreed reluctantly, “I guess. I still don’t know about the promotion, though. That bugs me.”

Catherine snorted. “It would’ve bugged you even if Gil had been celibate and straight. And I still can’t believe you thought he was straight all this time.”

A little defensive, Sara replied, “He sure as hell led me on a merry chase.”

“You saw what you wanted to see, Sara. He’s a very tidy, single man in his fifties, who’s never been married, never had a long term relationship that he’s brought to light at work, and his main hobbies are bugs and dead bodies. Think about it.”

“I guess,” Sara repeated with a sigh.

Putting her arm around Sara’s shoulder, Catherine commiserated, “You’ll get used to it. In the meantime, it’s time to get to work. Come on.”

As they walked towards the office, Sara grinned mischievously and asked, “So you still seeing that strip club manager?”

* * * *

Heat. The heat felt really damn good. Closing his eyes and lifting his face to the sun, Martin was glad he’d decided to wait outside for Jack to get the rental. People were rushing here and there, coming and going, but Martin just stood in his block of sunshine and soaked. He probably looked like an idiot, but he just didn’t care. Something just felt better inside, feeling the warmth on his face and the prickling heat beneath his clothes.

Maybe he should go on vacation more often, it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. Not that he was on vacation, but the change of scenery was definitely a bonus. He suddenly had the sneaking suspicion that they were on a, well, not a wild goose chase since they knew Mastroianni was there, but something similar and that Jack had brought him along just because he felt sorry for Martin.

Jack wasn’t stupid by any stretch and Martin knew that he knew that something was going on. The older man hadn’t honed in on what, yet, but it was only a matter of time. Martin had never been able to hide things from Jack, not from Day One.

Maybe it was the way those dark eyes just stared right into his soul and made him want to confess things. Or maybe it was that Jack was so comforting to Martin that he wanted nothing more than to curl up in those strong arms and lay all his troubles at Jack’s feet. Because he knew that Jack would solve them. Jack would take care of him, there was no doubt about that.

Jack was married, there was no doubt about that, either, despite the separation the year before.

“Martin? You okay?”

Eyes snapping open, Martin nodded at Jack’s soft question and replied, “Just enjoying the sun.”

“We’ve only been here an hour and it’s too damn hot for me,” Jack complained, grinning briefly. “C’mon. Car’s over there.”

Martin flushed as he saw that Jack had parked at the curb. He definitely had to have seen him daydreaming like that. He might’ve even called Martin’s name a couple of times and had to come get him because Martin was off in Never Never Land. Picking up the suitcases, he followed Jack to the sedan. Once inside, he asked, “What’s the plan?”

“We’ll check in with the local Bureau and talk to Agent Spenser, see if he’s gotten any new leads. Then I thought we’d hit the PD. Brass said he’d help us out,” Jack replied, putting in his seatbelt.

Surprised, Martin asked, “Detective Brass, the cop who’s friends with Nick Stokes?”

“The one and only.”

“When did you call him?”

“On the plane,” Jack explained. “You were out like a light. I needed someone to talk to.”

Martin had to chuckle at the dry tone. “So he’s going to help?”

“Yeah. He’ll take us on a tour of the local low spots where Mastroianni might be hiding out. He’s booked tonight, though, so I figure that after we check in at the Bureau and catch up there, we’ll just hit the hotel and get used to the time zone.”

A little suspicious that Jack was taking it easy on him, Martin questioned, “You don’t want to look around tonight?”

Jack glanced at him and countered reasonably, “Where?”

Good point. Without a local guide, they’d pretty much be spinning their wheels for days until they learned the lay of the land. He settled back in the seat. “True.”

“Look, Martin, I…”

He looked over at Jack when the other man’s voice trailed off and prompted, “What?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Let’s just get started, okay?”

For some reason, that depressed Martin further. He sighed. “Sure.”

* * * *

“Is Nick okay?” Catherine asked with a frown.

Gil nodded, not looking up from the new case file as he replied steadily, “Nick’s fine.”

“He doesn’t look fine.”

Her pointed tone told him that she wasn’t going to let it drop without a straight answer. Sighing, Gil pulled off his glasses and sat back in his chair. “Nick had an episode tonight, just before coming in.”

“Episode?” Catherine questioned, her frown deepening.

“It’s like a waking nightmare, or a flashback, a combination of the two, really, to when he was kidnapped.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. It’s been a while since he had one, but he and Warrick were roughhousing and the light was out and he just…” Gil moved his hands helplessly, unsure how to put it.

“Freaked?”

“Something like that,” Gil agreed. “I talked him down and he insisted that he was all right to come into work tonight.”

Golden eyebrows raised, Catherine countered, “And you believed him?”

“I don’t run his life, Catherine. Nick’s a grown man. He can make those decisions on his own,” Gil replied.

Shaking her head, Catherine pointed out, “Even grown men need help, Gil. Case in point. No man ever admits that he’s sick or goes to the doctor unless a woman browbeats him there, but there aren’t any women in the household.”

Gil’s lips twitched as he tried not to grin. “So you’re saying that I should be the woman.”

Smirking, Catherine confirmed, “If the leather mini fits…”

“Catherine,” he warned.

She held up her hands and continued, “I’m just saying, if Nick doesn’t see that he needs to stay home and recoup, someone needs to make him see that. And no offense, but Warrick couldn’t make anyone do anything.”

Sighing, Gil said, “Thanks, Catherine. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

Catherine smiled. “Anytime. So. The worker bees are waiting for their assignments. You have them yet?”

Standing and picking up the files, Gil nodded and they walked out of his office. Most of his mind was on the conversation he’d just had and the fact that Catherine was right, Nick should be home with either him or Warrick to keep the nightmares at bay. Getting involved in a homicide was not going to help in the least; Nick or the investigation.

Choice made, Gil braced himself for the coming storm when he handed out the assignments. “Warrick, Sara, you’ve got a DB in a casino, an apparent suicide, but the spouse is nowhere to be found.”

“Choice,” Sara exclaimed, tugging the paper from his fingers.

She and Warrick started jabbering about it right away, heading out of the common room.

“Catherine, I want you to handle a murder on the strip, homeless woman. Pick up Greg on your way out, he could use some more field time.”

“I hope Greg has disinfectant,” she replied with a grin, taking her assignment and heading out.

Nick looked at him expectantly, something that Gil just knew was going to change to a betrayed disappointment and he winced a little as he said, “Nick, I want you to go home.”

Nick’s jaw dropped as disbelief flashed across his face. “Excuse me?”

“You need to go home and rest,” Gil stated firmly. He knew that if he didn’t go on the offensive, he’d never get Nick to leave. “Right now, you’re no good to the investigation, any investigation, because you’re emotionally wiped out from earlier. I know you don’t want to compromise your work, so this is the best solution.”

Shifting uncomfortably as he looked around to make sure there was no one else nearby, Nick said, “I don’t…I don’t want to be alone there. Anywhere, really. That’s why I came in.”

Softening, Gil replied, “Oh Nicky. You don’t have to be alone. I’ve got plenty of work you can do right here, if you don’t want to go home. Nothing critical, but administrative things that need to be done. Piles of it, in fact. And if that doesn’t put you to sleep, nothing will.”

Nick smiled briefly, wan, and asked, “Isn’t this some kind of protocol breach?”

“Probably,” Gil admitted. “But I don’t really care. I can’t leave, thanks to a supervisors meeting that I need to go to, but I’m not going to just abandon you either. You can work in my office tonight.”

“Thanks, Gil.”

The relief in Nick’s eyes was almost more than Gil could handle in public. He wanted to fold Nick into his arms and hold him tight, reassure him that everything would be fine. But he couldn’t, not here, anyhow. Keeping himself in check, Gil said, “I have to go, but there’s a stack of files on my desk with notes all over them. Make sense of what you can, okay?”

Nick nodded, also obviously painfully aware of their location. “Thanks, Gil.”

Smiling, Gil replied, “You can thank me later.”

A brief grin lifted Nick’s lips and he nodded. Gil hesitated, then left, cursing the job that kept him from his lover when he was needed most.

* * * *

Nick sighed as Gil left the breakroom then headed down to his office. It would probably be nearly impossible to find anything in there, but he’d at least attempt to get some work done. At least it would be good to help Gil out. Nick had no clue how he managed to be an active CSI while still maintaining the duties of supervisor like he did. He knew that the other man got stressed a lot because of it, he and Warrick had talked about it, but neither could come up with ways to figure out how to help him.

The office was dark and quiet when he got there, and for a moment, Nick paused at the doorway. When he opened the door, the fish started singing and he jumped, forgetting that the stupid thing was there. Shaking his head at Gil’s weird sense of humor, Nick moved to the desk and looked around the files piled haphazardly there.

He spent the next couple of hours going through Gil’s torturously detailed notes in case file after case file. It was slow going, but Nick was glad for the mind-numbing concentration needed to finish off each of the cases for Gil’s final signature and approval. He stayed away from the cases that he’d worked on, knowing that Gil trusted him not to go through them.

The fish started singing again and Nick jolted upright to find Jim standing in the door, his perpetual frown in place. Not sure what to say, Nick stayed quiet.

Jim opened with, “I thought that was you.”

“Yeah. Did you need something?” Nick asked, hoping the obvious question wouldn’t be asked.

Shaking his head, Jim replied, “Just looking for Grissom.”

“He’s in a supervisors meeting. I think he’s going to be back soon, it’s been a couple of hours.”

“Uh huh. Okay. Well, you’ll probably want to know this too.”

“What?”

“Agents Malone and Fitzgerald are in town for a case. I’m going to be showing them where all the scum hang out in the hopes of finding their particular scumbag.”

This information shook Nick as he immediately thought about David getting free. He asked, trying to stay calm, “Did they say who they were looking for?”

“No. But Malone seemed stressed on the phone, so probably something big,” Jim answered. “Then again, it always is with the Feds.”

Nick forced a smile and said, “Yeah. That’s true.”

“Well, let Grissom know for me, will you? And remind him that he owes me fifty bucks.”

“For what?”

Jim grinned. “Just tell him. He’ll know.”

Nick frowned, but nodded. “Okay.”

Whistling, Jim headed back into the hall, closing the door behind him.

The office suddenly seemed a lot darker and dangerous, even though Nick knew there was nothing there that would hurt him. He flipped on the desk lamp, adding to the overhead light, and crossed his arms over his chest, cold to the bone. It wasn’t possible that David Myers had escaped. Not possible. He’d have been notified as soon as it had happened. They wouldn’t send Malone and Fitzgerald to Las Vegas after an escapee, either. That would be left up to the locals.

Logic wasn’t making much of a dent in the fear that was rapidly swelling inside, though, and Nick got up from the desk. He accidentally knocked over a couple of the files, but was too agitated to pick them up and sort them out.

Not really thinking things out, Nick left the office.

* * * *

Feeling as though his mind had been pickled from the numbing effect of a two hour meeting filled with endless minutiae, Gil walked down the hall towards the elevator. He pushed the call button and waited, rubbing at dry, tired eyes. Why was it that he could go for days on a single crime scene, but had trouble focusing in a management meeting?

The elevator doors opened on Jim, who grinned at him and wagged a finger. “You have been holding out on me, Grissom.”

Gil frowned, not understanding. “About what?”

“I just found Nicky stashed in your office, waiting for you. Which, to my way of thinking, means that you’ve given into temptation, buck-o. You owe me fifty bucks.”

The bet from a couple of years ago flashed through his mind and Gil’s face heated. “Jim, it’s not like I deliberately welched…wait…why were you at my office?”

“I wanted to tell you that Agents Malone and Fitzgerald were on their way down. Probably already here by now, actually,” Jim explained.

Gil’s eyes widened and he demanded, “Did you tell that to Nick?”

“Well yeah.”

Gil pushed him aside and hit the floor button for his office.

“What’s wrong?” Jim asked as the doors closed.

“Nick’s been…off-kilter…since the kidnapping. Sometimes he has flashbacks and tonight he did. If you told him that Malone and Fitzgerald were on their way here…”

“Then he probably thinks it’s to do with the kidnapping,” Jim finished, groaning.

Gil nodded and stared at the floor indicator, willing it to move faster. “Exactly.”

They reached the office only a few minutes later, but it was empty. Gil took in the files spilled on the floor and cursed silently. “He’s gone.”

“You want an APB out on him?” Jim asked.

Gil hesitated. If he did that and nothing was wrong, he’d be exposing Nick’s mental state for the world to see. The media blitz when they’d returned to Las Vegas a few months ago had died down, but Gil knew that it would only take a spark to set it ablaze again. Shaking his head, Gil answered, “No. No, let’s keep this quiet. First we’ll search the building, then I’ll head back to the house and see if he went there.”

“House?”

“Oh, ah, yeah. We bought a house.”

“Together?”

“That’s what ‘we’ implies, Jim,” Gil replied tightly. He didn’t mention Warrick, knowing that his lover’s relationship with the cop was still not very solid. Not to mention that Jim could handle a gay relationship pretty well, but a triad would be pushing things, even if it involved Gil. Or maybe especially if it involved him. “Will you help me find him?”

Jim’s look asked if he was stupid and Gil nodded.

“Thanks.”

Gil’s heart was in his throat as they left the office. If they didn’t find Nick soon, there was no telling what he could do in his current state.
55 Hours Missing

 

 

 

Jack was more than a little surprised to find Brown the one to greet them at the LVPD building, instead of Brass. The black man was looked tense and like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Standing with him was a beautiful, blonde woman with vibrant blue eyes. He shook Brown’s hand and asked, “How are you, Warrick?”

“I’ve had better nights,” Warrick answered honestly. “Nick heard you were coming, assumed the worst and took off. Brass and Gil’re out looking for him.”

Wincing a bit, Jack said, “Sorry to hear that. Can we help?”

“Not really. Just wanted to make sure you’re not hangin’ in the wind,” Warrick told him.

“You got someone who can show us around?”

“Yeah. Catherine Willows, this is Special Agents Jack Malone and Martin Fitzgerald.”

Jack shook her hand, as did Martin, then said, “Good to meet you. So, you know this town?”

“Inside and out,” she confirmed, smiling easily.

Warrick put a hand on her shoulder and said, “You’ll be in good hands.”

Smiling at Catherine, Jack agreed, “I’m sure we will.”

“I have got to get, so we’ll catch up later.”

Jack watched Warrick hustle off, then turned to their new guide and asked, “So. You know the city pretty well you said?”

Catherine’s lips twisted into a wry grin as she answered, “I sometimes think I know this city too well. Come on. Let’s find your missing perp.”

*  *  *  *

Gil and Jim were just about to the house when Gil’s cell went off. He was going to ignore it, but then realized that it could be about Nick.  He saw the ID from the lab and frowned, but answered it, putting it on speaker. “What is it, Greg?”

“Uh, Gil? There’s kind of a problem back here you need to come take care of,” Greg answered

“What problem?”

“I was downstairs in the basement, looking for a part to fix one of the microscopes…”

“Today, Greg!”

“Nick’s there and he’s completely freaked. He’s curled up in a ball down in a mess of crates. I, I didn’t want to call an ambulance, ‘cause he didn’t look hurt or anything, but, I didn’t really know what to do, either, so I figured I should call you.”

Gil swore and pulled a U-turn right in the middle of the street, glad that it was late enough that there was no traffic. “Thanks, Greg, you did the right thing. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Just keep him company, okay? Don’t touch him, don’t talk to him, just be there.”

“Is he, is he okay?” Greg asked hesitantly.

Sighing, Gil replied, “Not really, but he will be.”

“Ecklie was looking for him.”

“For God’s sake, don’t lead Ecklie anywhere near him!” Gil exclaimed, stepping a little harder on the gas. “It’ll be the end of his career!”

“I know, I know, but it’s not like I can go back downstairs and stay with Nick, if Ecklie’s right down the hall. He’s gonna want to know where I’m going and might even follow me.”

Gil didn’t even think before instructing, “Call Warrick. Tell him where Nick is and he’ll handle it.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool. I’ll do that right now.”

Gil touched the disconnect and chanced a look over at Jim, who had a white-knuckled grip on the ‘oh-shit’ handle above the door. A faint grin surfaced and he promised, “Don’t worry, Jim, I’m an excellent driver.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Jim muttered, not letting go.

*  *  *  *

Warrick walked slowly towards the basement storage unit where Greg had found Nick, shining a flashlight in front of him. The bottom most level of the building rarely had lights or a/c going to save on electricity. He found his lover curled up literally in a corner and his heart sank. This was definitely a Grissom kind of situation. Nick never responded to him when he was this deep in it. Any other time, Warrick might’ve been angry or upset about that fact, but faced with the frightened man before him, he could only sigh with relief that Nick was okay.

“Nick? Nicky, it’s me, baby, I’m just going to come a little closer and keep you company until Grissom gets back, okay?” Warrick called softly. “You just take it easy, because no one’s coming to hurt you. You got spooked for no reason, buddy. That bastard is still safely behind bars where he belongs. Malone and Fitzgerald are here for a completely different reason, okay? You’re safe, Nicky, ain’t no one going to hurt you.”

Nick didn’t move when Warrick touched his shoulder, but he didn’t move to push him away or freak out further, either. Rubbing his hand up and down Nick’s back, Warrick leaned in close and kissed the shell of a pink ear and whispered, “Everything’s okay, Nicky, I promise. You’re safe here with me. Anyone’d have to kill me to get to you, I swear to God.”

Nick groaned and rolled over, wrapping his arms tight around Warrick’s waist and burying his face against his stomach.

Bending over him, Warrick held tight and said, “You’re going to be okay, baby, I promise. Everything’s going to be fine.”

But Nick shook his head, countering, “I can’t do this, Warrick, I can’t keep going like this. Please, help me?”

“Oh baby,” Warrick breathed, tugging at him until Nick rested over his lap, cradled in his arms. “That’s it, just let it out now, let me carry you for a while. No need to be strong for us, we gotcha back.”

Nick shook with silent tears, refusing to give voice to whatever was tearing him up inside. It was enough to break Warrick’s heart, being unable to help in a way that truly made a difference. This was definitely the last straw. He was going to hog-tie Nick into some kind of therapy if it was the last thing he did, and Warrick would hold a gun to Grissom’s head if the other man gave him any kind of crap about it. Nick wasn’t like them, when it came to his feelings, he had to express them and a stab of dismay ran through him as Warrick wondered if maybe they hadn’t let him. That maybe they were part of the problem.

“Warrick?”

Gil’s voice startled him and Warrick’s head whipped over to find his other lover walking towards them, also armed with a flashlight. Relieved, he greeted, “Hey, Gris. I got him, but he’s pretty bad off.”

Crouching beside them, Gil rubbed his hand gently over Nick’s head and replied, “I can see that. Nicky? Can you look at me, please?”

There was a long moment where Nick’s face remained buried against Warrick’s throat, but finally, he turned his head to look at Gil.

Gil smiled and cupped his face, a thumb brushing away tears. “There you are. I think it’s time to go home, don’t you?”

Swallowing nervously, Nick nodded and whispered, “I’m so tired, Gil.”

“Then we’ll just tuck you away in bed once we get there,” Gil promised, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Come on now, I think you’re putting Warrick’s legs to sleep.”

Nick managed a watery chuckle at that and accepted the help to stand.

Warrick was next and, surrounding Nick from behind, he said, “I wish I could go with you, keep you company.”

“No, you gotta mind the store,” Nick agreed wanly. “Just be careful, okay?”

Nodding, Warrick took his mouth in a lingering kiss, then tenderly wiped Nick’s face clean as he replied, “You do what Grissom tells you, got it?”

Nick offered a weak salute and answered, “Yes, sir.”

The walk back up was silent, Warrick and Gil each holding one of Nick’s hands until they reached the elevator bay and the start of surveillance. Reluctantly pulling his hand free, Warrick stayed bodily close to Nick, as did Gil, until the elevator deposited them on the main floor. Once there, he watched as Gil and Nick headed for the exit, then sighed and headed back to his case. His concentration was going to be shot to hell, but one of them had to try and get some work done.

Just figured that that someone had to be him.

*  *  *  *

It had been a long line of nothing, even with the contacts that Catherine had strewn around the city. Jack was more than a little impressed with how well she had the town wired, and it all seemed based on the force of her personality. People genuinely responded to her, hardened criminals and jaded dealers alike.

Being almost five in the morning, they’d split up a short while ago outside the hotel. Martin hadn’t hung around to listen, once Jack started making plans with Catherine for lunch the next day. Night. Well, the next time she came around to help find their perp. She’d responded graciously to Martin ditching them, but Jack was a little worried about what it might mean.

Hurrying inside, Jack winced at the garish lights and loud noises, searching with tired eyes through the smoke-filled area for Martin. He frowned as he watched Martin take up a stool at the bar instead of heading to one of the tables for supper. Breakfast. Whatever. Shaking off the time confusion, Jack walked over to stand behind Martin and asked, “Something wrong?”

Shaking his head, Martin answered, “Just thought you and Catherine would want some time alone. Isn’t she going to stop by to take you to dinner or something?”

The feeling that he and Martin were again on the opposite sides of the spectrum, the extreme opposite, hit Jack and he nearly groaned out loud at the closed off expression on the younger man’s face. It seemed like coming here had done exactly what he’d been trying to avoid, which was the completion of Martin’s shut-down to any and all overtures of expressing himself.

“Nah. Catherine’s got a daughter to get home to,” Jack reminded, taking up the seat beside him. “We were talking about lunch tomorrow, for all three of us.”

Martin looked a little surprised at that, but only signaled the bartender, a pretty young woman, and ordered, “Vodka tonic, please.”

“And you, sir?” she prompted, smiling at Jack.

“Just a soda, thanks.”

It took less than a minute to get their drinks filled and then she was off to bigger fish, thankfully. Jack looked at Martin, trying desperately to figure out a way to get Martin to open up. There wasn’t much he could say, though, and so stayed silent.

“You think we’ll find this guy?” Martin asked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah. Might take a couple days, but we’ll get him.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Once we do…”

“Yeah?” Jack asked, dreading the next words.

“I need some time off, Jack.”

Jack sighed, rubbing dry and gritty eyes. He’d been hoping for something just like this, only now that it had happened, a minor panic was surfacing, telling him that if he let Martin go now, the agent would never come back. And life without Martin in it would just about kill him.

“Look, Martin, I know things have been…stressful…the last few months,” Jack began. “…but we need you back at the office. Give it a couple of weeks and then I’ll be able to schedule you some time off.”

Martin shook his head. “I need it now, or I’ll quit.”

“Jesus, Martin, what is the problem?” Jack exclaimed softly. He gripped Martin’s shoulder, forcing him to turn and look at him. “Just fucking tell me already, okay? I’ve been covering for you for weeks now and I think I have the right to know!”

Glaring, Martin jerked free and hissed, “You have no rights over me, Jack! Absolutely none! And tough shit if you don’t like it.”

This time, Jack did groan out loud as Martin stalked away, without once looking back. He sighed and looked at the barely touched glass of vodka. Picking it up, he toasted himself in the mirror behind the booze and muttered, “Here’s to being an idiot.”

*  *  *  *

Gil shut and locked the door immediately behind them, setting the alarm as well. He didn’t want to get out of bed, once they were in it. With an arm around Nick’s waist, he led the mostly somnolent man towards their bedroom so they could get ready to sleep. Nick had slept most of the ride home, and Gil had been left to his thoughts the whole time. Not a very pleasant way to pass the time, given his worry for his lover.

Sitting Nick on the bed, he unbuttoned the younger man’s shirt and tugged it off, tossing it haphazardly aside before kneeling down to take off shoes and socks. When he stood, Nick looked more awake than he had, and Gil smiled, saying softly, “You need to use the bathroom before we hit the hay?”

“And brush my teeth,” Nick agreed, pushing onto his feet. “I won’t be long.”

Gil brushed his knuckles over Nick’s cheek and replied, “All right. I’m just going to check in with Catherine, I’ll be right here.”

Nick nodded and walked over to the bathroom, leaving the door open as he began his nightly routine. Gil watched him for a moment, then pulled his cell phone free and called Catherine.

“Willows.”

“Catherine. Everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” she countered. “Warrick said that you found Nick and he was okay, but not much more than that.”

Lowering his voice, he told her, “He was in pretty bad shape. You were right. He shouldn’t have come in to work at all tonight.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Gil sighed. “I don’t know. We’ll talk about it when we get up. How did Ecklie take our defection?”

She laughed, but it was mirthless, and answered, “It’s a good thing that you’ve got the seniority you do, and that your reputation is otherwise spotless, because if it wasn’t, you’d be out the door.”

“That angry, huh?”

“Oh yeah. I thought poor Greg was going to get fired in your absence, being the nearest target.”

“You stepped in, I gather.”

“You bet I did,” she confirmed. “Personally, I think Greg’s got a harassment case, but he’d never go for something like that.”

Gil nodded agreement. “I’ll call Conrad and deal with it.”

“You might want to do it now, before he has the night to go over his options.”

“Good point. Thanks, Catherine.”

“Just take care of Nick. He is okay, right?”

“He’s fine,” Gil assured her. “Just needs some rest.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Hanging up from her, Gil took a moment to gather his thoughts and a rough plan, then dialed Ecklie’s number.

“Grissom, you’d better have a damned good explanation for leaving mid-shift without a reason,” Ecklie snarled into the phone.

Half-smiling, Gil replied, “Good morning, Conrad, it’s good to talk to you too.”

“Don’t you start that with me. I want an explanation now!”

“One of my team members became ill, Conrad, and couldn’t drive himself home.”

“That’s what taxi’s were invented for.”

“I’m not going to discuss Nick Stokes’ health with you, but I will say that a cab wasn’t going to cut it. And while you’re not on comfortable terms with your team, I am. We take care of each other and that includes giving rides when one of us is too sick to drive.”

There was a pause as Ecklie clearly thought about how that would look on a report, if he filed one. He finally said, grudgingly, “I suppose you’ll be out the rest of the shift?”

“That’s correct. I’ll be back tomorrow, of course.”

“Of course.”

Ecklie hung up without further ado and Gil grimaced at the cell. He set it on the bedside table and turned to find Nick leaning against the bathroom doorframe and staring at him with an inscrutable expression. “Nick?”

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“I won’t let you put your career on the line because I have a hissy fit,” Nick explained. “Or even a complete mental breakdown. And you know that’s where this is heading, Gil.”

For some reason, Nick looked calmer talking about a possible mental breakdown than he had in days. It was as if he’d come to some decision in the scant time he’d been in the bathroom, and Gil wasn’t all that sure that he wanted to hear what that was.

“I talked to my mother yesterday. She wants me to come home for a visit. A long one.”

Definitely don’t want to hear the rest of this, Gil thought. “Nick, this isn’t something that you can run from. Whether you’re here or in Texas, you can’t escape your feelings.”

Nick nodded and agreed, “I know. That’s why I’m signing myself into a mental health facility while I’m there.”

Shocked, Gil sat down hard on the bed.

“Gil, I can’t…look, this isn’t about you, me, and Warrick. This is just about me,” Nick said, almost pleading. “I can’t keep going through this shit, I just can’t. And as great as you and Warrick have been to me since the whole kidnapping, I need to do this on my own. I can’t keep putting you at risk, either of you.”

Gil literally had no idea what to say. He could only stare at Nick from across the room, feeling like they were separated by miles, instead of a few yards.

“It’s a great facility. It’s very open to alternate lifestyles with a highly-qualified, award winning staff. They’ve got four, six, and eight week programs.”

“Which one will you sign up for?”

“The eight week, with a possible extension to be determined at the time of evaluation.”

And even though Gil had somehow known that was exactly what Nick would say, hearing it sent a cold dread through him. Two months without Nick? Possibly longer? It seemed completely inconceivable.

“I’ll go into work with you and ‘Rick tomorrow so I can fill out the medical leave papers,” Nick finished. “I’ll order my ticket for day after tomorrow. Make sure I get there before I finish going crazy.”

“You’re not crazy!” Gil snapped harshly.

Nick flinched, then sighed. “You see? Just hearing you sound like that, angry, and I’m a nervous wreck. I feel like, like I'm flying apart at the seams and I can't keep myself together anymore, Gil. I need…something…and I don’t know what that is, but unfortunately, love isn’t the answer.”

Feeling as if his entire world was falling apart, Gil said bleakly, “You won’t come back.”

“I will.”

“You won’t.”

Too many people had left him, never to come back. Too many people had taken his heart and broken it into a million pieces. Nick was just the last in a very, very long line. Gentle hands touched him, startling Gil out of his haze of pain. Looking up into Nick’s eyes, he found pain and compassion and love all mixed together, staring back at him.

“I’m coming back, Gil,” Nick promised.

The strong arms that surrounded him were meant to be comforting, but Gil couldn’t fight the coldness that settled around his heart like a stone.

*  *  *  *

“Everything okay now?”

Looking over at Greg’s uncertain question, Warrick gave the kid a half-hearted smile and answered, “It will be. Nick’s still dealing with shit from his kidnapping.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” Greg agreed. He paused, then asked, “Are you okay?”

Surprised, Warrick answered, “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

Greg looked around the breakroom and said, “I know you guys don’t think I notice things, but I do. I know that the three of you leave at the same time, more often then not, and arrive within a couple of minutes of each other. I know that two out of the three of you generally share rides most of the time, too. So if you were having a little problem, you know, dealing with Nick, and you needed someone beside Grissom to talk to about it, I’m here for you.”

The surprise turned to a warm relief and Warrick gripped Greg’s shoulder. “Thanks, man, but I’m good. Really.”

Smiling, Greg said, “Good! So look, I know your social calendar’s like probably insane right now, but you think you could cover for me next Friday? I’ve got a hot date and really need the night off.”

Warrick laughed and messed with Greg’s hair. It was good to have friends.

*  *  *  *

Jack hesitated outside Martin’s hotel room, hand poised to knock. He’d wallowed in self-pity and loneliness for a good hour, aided and abetted by three more vodka tonics. Arguing with himself all that time hadn’t solved anything, either. He was still just as confused and pained and wanting as before Martin had stormed off. He still needed Martin in his life and couldn’t figure out a way to keep him in it.

His hand fell to rest on the door, not knock, and then he leaned against it. Pressing his forehead to the cool wood, Jack sighed and muttered, “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

The door unexpectedly opened on him and Jack stumbled through, directly into a startled Martin’s arms. They went down in a tangle of limbs and Jack found himself pinning Martin to the carpet by accident.

“Jack! What the hell?” Martin exclaimed, glaring up at him.

Jack blinked at him in surprise, then decided not to question the fateful arrangements and took Martin’s mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. He figured that Martin would either punch his lights out, or go for it. Either way, he’d be out of the shitty limbo in which he was stuck.

Martin groaned and responded almost instantly, mouth opening to Jack’s desperate kiss. His hands gripped Jack’s back, holding him even tighter, and Jack moaned as he rubbed against the hardening length beneath Martin’s pants. He had just enough sense to kick the door closed, not wanting to get up and risk Martin coming to his senses enough to move to the bed.

Pushing up on his knees, Jack grabbed Martin’s shirt and yanked it apart, buttons flying. Martin gasped in shock then moaned and dug his nails into Jack to pull him closer, again. There was a t-shirt underneath, damn it, but Martin helped by lifting up enough to tug it off. Martin’s hands were busy as well, pulling at Jack’s shirt and pants, unbuttoning and unzipping both faster than Jack would have thought possible.

“Come on, come on,” Martin demanded, pulling at Jack’s ass, urging him up. “I want it, want to suck you off!”

Jack shuddered in pure lust at that, and took a few seconds to pull out his cock while crawling up into position over Martin’s face. Liquid heat enveloped his flesh and he cried out, thrusting down deep and hard enough to provoke a gag from Martin. Reining himself back, panting, Jack pulled out enough to let Martin get his breath, then resumed a more shallow rhythm. While he could feel Martin squirming, he didn’t realize it was because the younger man was kicking off his pants until his feet touched the bare skin of Martin’s thighs.

Martin pulled off at last and gasped, “Do it, Jack, fuck me, please fuck me!”

“Jesus, Martin, shit, I can’t think when you talk like that!” Jack exclaimed, trying to catch his breath.

A wicked grin crossed Martin’s face and he replied, “Put your cock in me, Jack, shove it up my ass so deep I’ll feel you for a week. Fuck me through the floor, I want it so bad, Jack, so fuckin’ bad.”

Biting his lip hard enough to break the skin, Jack struggled to keep from coming, then and there. Martin pushed up on his elbows and sucked on the bleeding lip, then reached up to pull Jack down for a wet, nasty kiss. By the time they pulled apart, Jack had forgotten about the split lip and only wanted in Martin’s body, as fast as possible. A slim threat of sanity remained long enough for him to gasp, “Lube? Condoms?”

“Fuck!” Martin hissed. “I don’t have any.”

Groaning in frustration, Jack sat back on his haunches and stared down at the wanton sight of Martin, naked and damp with sweat, his hair mussed and lips swollen. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Martin answered without hesitation.

“I’m clean, but I won’t fuck you without a condom if you want one. I’ll go downstairs and buy a pack,” Jack said seriously.

Martin shook his head and said, “I trust you. Do me, Jack, please, please fuck me!”

They definitely needed lube of some kind, so Jack staggered to his feet, towards the bathroom that was a very short distance away. He found hand lotion and grimaced at it, but it would do. When he got back to the hall, Martin’s legs were drawn up, exposing himself, and Jack’s eyes rolled back a little at the incredible sight.

Dropping to his knees, Jack poured some of the lotion on his fingers with a trembling hand, then carefully pushed a finger inside. Martin sighed deeply and shivered, goosebumps surfacing all over his body as Jack worked the finger in and out of him.

“Christ, Martin, you’re so fuckin’ hot like this,” Jack muttered.

Two fingers were next as Jack ruthlessly stretched and spread Martin’s hole as quickly as he possibly could. His cock ached, beyond ready to plunge into the tight heat it knew waited, but Jack forced himself to be thorough. By the time Martin thrust down on three fingers, he was about desperate to come and moved into position.

Martin’s legs wrapped around Jack’s hips and he looked up at Jack, serious, and said, “I’ve wanted this, you, for way the hell too long, Jack.”

Swallowing against a throat tight with emotion, Jack answered gruffly, “Me, too, Martin. Me, too.”

It took a few tries to force his cock into Martin, who cried out in pain at the penetration when it finally happened. Panting, forcing himself to stay still so Martin could get used to him, Jack mentally reviewed the ugliest autopsies he’d ever been to until he was calm enough that he wouldn’t just plunge the rest of the way in.

“Fuck, Jack, oh shit, you’re a lot bigger than I thought,” Martin groaned.

Jack leaned forward and kissed him, trying to distract him, and commented, “I’m a grower, not a shower, Martin.”

A pained laugh escaped his new lover and Martin replied, “That’s bad, really bad.”

“I know,” Jack agreed, meeting Martin’s gaze with a grin. “You didn’t think having sex would improve my sense of humor, did you?”

“Hope springs eternal,” Martin quipped, a smile on his face.

Jack slowly pushed forward, wedging himself deeper into the hot flesh that surrounded him. That they could joke and laugh, even in the midst of all this desire and lust finally brought to a head just how long it had been since he and Marie had shared anything remotely similar. Just how long they’d been over, except for the paperwork and clinging to the past. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d made love, or even had sex, let alone been close enough to laugh together in the middle of it.

“You okay?” Jack asked softly.

Martin nodded frantically and ordered, “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”

“I’m not,” Jack promised, continuing to push deeper.

“Oh shit, oh shit, Jack,” Martin moaned, his legs locking tight around his hips, hands gripping Jack’s arms with bruising force.

Jack forced his cock in the last few inches until he was fully seated inside Martin, prompting a loud cry of pain and pleasure to burst from the younger man. Martin shuddered violently, legs spasming tighter around Jack as his eyes rolled back. He could feel the wet shaft against his abs, soaking into his own t-shirt, and bent the rest of the way down to seize Martin’s open mouth in another kiss.

By the time the kiss ended, Martin was undulating against him, silent encouragement to move, and Jack did just that. Slow at first, reveling in the tight sleeve of flesh that held him, then picking up speed. Thrusting hard enough for his balls to slap against Martin’s ass, Jack gritted his teeth, hanging onto his control for as long as possible. He’d wanted this for so long, that he didn’t want it to be over just after it had started.

Martin’s fingernails raked fire along Jack’s back as he muttered, “Fuck yeah, oh shit, do me harder, please, God, Jack, harder, oh Christ, that’s it, that’s it!”

Jack moved his arms so that he leaned over Martin’s shoulder, pinning him in place by almost folding him back on himself. Hunching into him, he finally nicked Martin’s prostate, causing his lover to shout in pleasure and writhe even more. Keeping that angle, Jack fucked him fast and hard, feeling orgasm tighten along his spine and pull his balls up in preparation for release.

The repeated stimulation to his prostate and the constant rubbing of Jack’s abs over his cock sent Martin over the edge first, crying out loud and long as he spilled between them. Jack was only seconds behind him, Martin’s ass clamping down on his cock to create even more friction as Jack slammed in and out of him rapidly. Lunging in one last time, grinding down, Jack spilled everything he had into Martin, eyes rolling back and darkness tingeing his vision.

Collapsing on Martin, Jack wondered vaguely if his heart should be pounding that heavy in his chest, or if maybe he was having a heart attack. It would be just his luck to finally get Martin and wind up in the hospital because of it. Jack rested his head on Martin’s shoulder, face pressed to the damp column of his throat, knowing he couldn’t move if his life depended on it.

Martin’s arm draped over his shoulder, his own breathing pretty ragged, and his fingers combed through Jack’s hair for a few silent minutes. When he finally spoke, it was with a touch of wonder to his voice as he gasped, “Jesus. Jack. That was. Christ. I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Jack grinned smugly and nuzzled at his throat, his lungs cooperating enough for him to answer, “Guess that means I haven’t lost my touch.”

“No. No, definitely not,” Martin agreed, chuckling breathlessly.

It took a few more minutes before the reality of bruised knees and rug-burned hangs to intrude on the post-coital bliss. When they did, Jack sighed and said, “My knees are killing me. How about we move this to the bed?”

Martin started laughing, which Jack took as a good sign.

*  *  *  *

Warrick was more than a little surprised to find Gil in the living room when he got home at about seven that morning. He was even more surprised to find the other man nursing a drink. Locking the door behind him, Warrick greeted, “What’s wrong?”

“Nick’s going to Texas,” Gil answered.

There was just the hint of a slur to his lover’s voice, which told him how long Gil had been drinking.

“There’s a mental health facility he’s signing into,” Gil continued. “Gonna be gone for a few months.”

A few months? Warrick was shocked and stood rooted to the spot, his bag dropping from nerveless hands. It took a couple of minutes to shake it off and when he did, Warrick asked, “Where’s Nick now?”

“Sleeping.”

“Did you at least stay with him until he fell asleep before starting in on the booze?”

Gil glared at him and snapped, “Of course I did! I was a supportive, loving partner, just like I’m supposed to be. Fuck what I need, right?”

Even knowing that it was mostly the alcohol talking, Warrick flinched at the blunt statement. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, then walked over to Gil on the sofa and sat beside him. Pulling Gil into his arms, he whispered, “We take you for granted, Gris, I’m sorry. Whatever you need to get through it, I’ll give it to you. I know I’m not Nick, but I’ll do what I can, okay?”

Gil remained stiff in his arms for a long time, then slowly, achingly slowly, relaxed into the hug. It wasn’t until Warrick pressed his lips to his temple that Gil started shaking, even though no tears escaped that he could tell.

“He’s not going to come back. He’s leaving me, just like everyone else,” Gil gasped, hands twined in Warrick’s shirt.

Rocking them gently, Warrick answered with as much certainty as he could muster, “He is coming back, Gil. He just needs to get his head on straight. He loves you so much, I don’t think you even know how much he loves you.”

“It’s not enough. He said it wasn’t enough.”

The despair in Gil’s voice cut right to the heart of Warrick and he held on tighter as the tears finally started.
Jack woke the following morning with an armful of Martin and it was the best waking up he’d had in a long damn time. Sighing deeply, he kissed the warm skin closest to him, Martin’s cheek, and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he really knew what he was doing. Not that it really mattered, because now that he had Martin, there was no way in hell he’d let the other man go. Martin mumbled something sleepily and rolled over to stretch and yawn. Jack shifted to his side and watched as his new lover slowly came back to the waking world.

 

Martin’s eyes fluttered open and for a moment, the tiniest frown was evident before he figured out where he was. Then a smile spread over his face and he met Jack’s gaze. “Morning.”

 

Leaning in to kiss him, Jack took Martin’s mouth in a slow, deep kiss, moving until he could slide his arm around Martin’s waist. The response was immediate and passionate, Martin’s mouth opening so Jack could slip his tongue inside. They made out for several minutes before Jack reluctantly pulled away. Caressing Martin’s face, he said, “It’s a great morning, but I have to get back to my room, shower, change, figure out what the hell meal to eat and then we need to get started on the day.”

 

Martin sighed regretfully, but nodded. “Yeah, I know. Just wish we could spend some time alone together.”

 

“You know, we’ve both got time coming to us,” Jack said carefully. “When this is done, we could stick around for a few days, maybe a week. See what happens.”

 

Returning his gaze fearlessly, Martin told him, “I already know what’s happened, Jack. Have for a long time. I love you and want to be with you. Now, I know you’re still with Marie, and there’s the girls to consider too, so I’m not putting any pressure on you. I just, well, I’ll take what I can get.”

Warmed all the way through by the words, Jack promised, “We’ll work this out, Martin, and I’m not talking about on the side, either. I won’t make that mistake with you, not with the way I feel about you.”

 

Pleased, Martin stole a quick, hard kiss before rolling off the bed and saying, “I’m taking a shower now before I jump you.”

 

Jack laughed and let his eyes roam over the long, lanky body with pleasure, lingering on the half-hard shaft between Martin’s legs. “Make it a cold one. I’ll meet you downstairs at the front door.”

 

“Sure thing,” Martin agreed, entering the bathroom and closing the door.

 

Sighing, seriously tempted to join Martin in the shower, Jack got out of bed and gathered his clothes to get dressed. Grateful they were in Las Vegas where his rumpled and slightly torn shirt wouldn’t gather a second glance, Jack buttoned it as best he could before grabbing his jacket and opening the door. To his surprise and displeasure, Jim Brass stood on the other side of it, fist poised to knock.

 

Knowing that there was no way the other man didn’t know what he was doing there, coming from Martin’s room looking the way he did, Jack asked simply, “What’ve you got?”

 

“A lead on your guy,” Brass answered neutrally. “I went to your room first, but you weren’t there.”

 

“Yeah well, you found me. Give me fifteen and I’ll meet you downstairs at the restaurant.”

 

“No problem.”

 

Glad that the other man either didn’t care, or wasn’t going to talk behind his back, Jack walked with the cop to the elevator, each man hitting a different call button; him for up and Brass for down. His doors opened first and, once they had closed again, Jack groaned and thumped his head against the wall.

 

*  *  *  *

 

Martin was surprised to find Brass waiting downstairs instead of Jack. He nodded to the cop and greeted, “Afternoon. Something happen?”

 

“Got a lead on your guy. Figured you would want to catch up with him before he moved on,” Brass answered. “Malone said he’d be down soon.”

 

Wondering when Brass had spoken to Jack, Martin questioned, “Is he alone?”

 

“Perp’s staying with a buddy, one Tom Allexandro. Greek guy with a huge chip on his shoulder,” Brass informed him, grimacing.

 

Martin grinned briefly. “You’ve dealt with him before, I take it?”

 

“A few times, yeah.”

 

“We good to go?” Jack asked, coming up from behind.

 

Looking over at the other Agent, Martin found he could barely keep his eyes off Jack once they settled on him. Despite the imperfect and still damp hair, the other man was his usual, imposing self.

 

Brass answered, “Just waiting for the two of you. Let’s roll.”

 

Martin tore his eyes from Jack with an effort and fell into step with Brass, feeling his new lover’s gaze on him like an actual weight. It was incredibly distracting and he forced himself to shut the other man out. If he wasn’t at his best when they met up with the bad guys, people could get hurt. Jack could get hurt, and that was unacceptable. By the time they reached the car, Martin was back on an even keel and took the back seat without even asking which Jack would prefer. As the Senior Agent, he got privileges anyhow, so there wasn’t even an eyebrow raised from Brass.

 

The drive didn’t take long; everything in the city proper seemed to be within a twenty minute radius. Brass pulled up in front of a seedy looking bar, one of many, and Martin quickly hopped out of the back, falling into step with Jack. All three headed inside and it took a few seconds for Martin’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

 

“Over there,” Brass murmured, angling to the right.

 

Bringing up the rear, Martin kept his gaze in motion, taking in potential threats and escape routes automatically. They stood out like sore thumbs, of course, being in their suits in a place where a ragged quality to the clothing seemed required.

 

Unfortunately, they were made when only about halfway there. Martin gritted his teeth and put on a burst of speed, passing Jack and Brass, and dodging around customers and workers alike to get to their quarry. He ran into the back area, ignoring the shouts of surprise from the working girls, and followed Mastroianni outside into the alley. Mastroianni could move pretty fast for a fat, out-of-shape gangster, but Martin was on him by the time they reached the sidewalk, once there weren’t any people to get in the way.

 

He slammed into the guy, shoving him face first into the brick wall. Pulling out his handcuffs, Martin clicked them into place and yanked the man upright, onto his feet. “I know a lot of people who are going to be so relieved that you’re alive and well. Especially the DA.”

 

“You can’t bring me back there! They’ll kill me!” Mastroianni protested.

 

“Yeah, well, you can talk to the DA about protection once we get you back there,” Jack informed him without sympathy.

 

“You got no right arresting me like this! No right at all!”

 

Brass chimed in with, “Who said anything about arrest? You’re under protective custody.”

 

Mastroianni spat on the ground at Brass’ feet. “You got no call treating me like this! I ain’t done nothin’ wrong!”

 

Martin shoved him forward and snapped, “Do that again!”

 

They had just about reached the car when several loud cracks reported in the air. Martin spun back at the impact to his shoulder, losing his grip on Mastroianni. The big man himself wound up flat on his back, missing half of his head. Strong arms grabbed him under the shoulders and hauled him into the safety of the alley as more gunshots were exchanged.

 

Groaning when Jack put pressure on an extremely painful wound, Martin gasped, “Not so hard, God that hurts!”

 

“No help for it,” Jack answered, grim. “You just hang in there, okay? Brass is calling for help.”

 

“So much…for protective custody,” Martin joked weakly.

 

Jack grinned at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s it, you keep on trying to be funny. You know, one of these days, Danny might rub off on ya.”

 

His entire shoulder was on fire and Martin wanted nothing more than to give in to the darkness skirting around the edges of his vision.

 

“Martin!”

 

Jerking back to awareness at the sharp call of his name, Martin focused on Jack’s worried, guilty expression. He gripped the hand over his shoulder, but it was too slick with blood to hold on to for long. “It’s okay, Jack. It’s just a shoulder. I’ve got two.”

 

This time, the smile did reach Jack’s eyes, even if it was still a worried one, and he replied, “That was almost funny, Martin, honest.”

 

“Excuse us, Sir.”

 

The EMTs had arrived, even though Martin didn’t remember hearing any sirens, and Jack was pushed aside in favor of equipped, medical personnel. He groaned as they poked and prodded, wrapping him up and staunching the wound with ruthless efficiency. He was injected with something that made his vision swim even more and lifted onto a stretcher.

 

“I’ll be right behind you,” Jack promised, at the ambulance door.

 

Martin nodded, eyes struggling to stay open, and managed, “See you…there…” before darkness took over.

 

*  *  *  *

 

Gil couldn’t remember the last time that he actively did not want to get up and start the day, not matter what time it actually was, but this qualified. When he woke, his head was absolutely killing him, thanks to all the alcohol he’d consumed, and his heart didn’t feel much better. It wasn’t their bed on which he lay, but rather the sofa. He assumed that meant that Warrick hadn’t been able to coax his drunken self into the bedroom, but maybe it was just as well.

 

Not quite ready to open his eyes, Gil sighed deeply and wondered if maybe he could just call in sick. He never did, so it wasn’t like he didn’t have the time off coming to him. Then again, Catherine would probably send out an ambulance, it was such a rare occurrence.

 

“I already called you in,” Nick said softly. “We figured that you’d be hurtin’ when you woke up.”

 

With the object of his heartache so close, Gil definitely didn’t want to open his eyes.

 

“I’ve got a glass of water and aspirin for you,” he continued.

 

Carefully clearing his throat, Gil whispered, “Thank you. Just, give me a minute.”

 

Warrick announced, “And I’ve got the bucket, just in case.”

 

Gil groaned at the normal volume, which rang through his aching head like a sledgehammer.

 

“Warrick!” Nick scolded, still on the quiet side.

 

“What? You play, you pay. We all do.”

 

“You could be a little more understanding.”

 

“It’s a hangover. He’s not going to die. Besides, you need to stop playing nursemaid and go pack. Taxi arrives in an hour, remember?”

 

That got Gil’s eyes open and he moaned as the light stabbed into them, but persevered. Nick sat on the coffee table right next to him, while Warrick stood a couple of feet to the side, bucket in hand, as promised. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Gil demanded, “An hour? And why a taxi?”

 

“Flight leaves at noon,” Warrick informed him. “Nick doesn’t want us to go to the airport with him.”

 

Warrick’s look told Gil that he’d better not protest under penalty of a lot worse than a hangover, so he bit back the protest. Sighing, he took the glass of water and aspirin from Nick and agreed, “You’d better go pack, Nicky. I’ll be fine.”

 

Nick hovered a little, still worried, but finally left.

 

“You look like crap, Gris.”

 

Gil took the three tablets of aspirin and then answered, “I think I feel worse. I don’t think I’ve ever had a hangover.”

 

“Welcome to the real world,” Warrick replied wryly, sitting beside him with a faint smirk. “Other than that, how’re you doing?”

 

Knowing that he was talking about Nick’s imminent departure, Gil sighed and answered, “Worn out. Beaten to a pulp, figuratively and literally speaking. How do you think I feel?”

 

Warrick hesitated, then asked, “Do you want me here? When Nick’s away, I mean.”

 

The vulnerability in that statement stabbed into Gil like a guilt-edged knife. It reminded him that he wasn’t the only one who would be missing Nick, that Warrick needed the other man, too. Putting his hand on Warrick’s thigh, Gil half-smiled and replied, “If you want to be here. I think maybe I won’t be able to get through this without you, but I’m sure to be a first class…”

 

“I think I can handle it,” Warrick interrupted, frowning. “No need to get down on yourself about it.”

 

Gil shrugged, then wished he hadn’t when it set off the throbbing in his head.

 

“C’mon, Gris, lay back down and close your eyes.”

 

Doing as ordered, Gil found himself with his head on Warrick’s lap. He dozed there, his lover’s fingers combing soothingly through his hair, for a timeless period until warm lips touched his forehead, waking him.

 

Nick was bent down over him and moved on to kiss Warrick before straightening up. He stood back a couple of steps and offered a brief, weary smile. “I guess this is goodbye for now. I’ll call you when I get to my folks’ place. No, don’t get up, Gil, stay put. I know your head’s gotta still be killin’ you. Look I…I love you both, more than anything, and I am coming back. I promise. I’ll…goodbye.”

 

And then, as if afraid he would change his mind, Nick turned and left, scooping up his duffel bag on the way out.

 

Warrick returned to stoking his fingers through Gil’s hair and ordered softly, “Go back to sleep, Gris.”

 

With nothing better to do, Gil closed his eyes, hoping the hole in his heart would be a little smaller when he woke up.

 

*  *  *  *

 

Catherine winced when she caught sight of Grissom walked like one of the dead towards her. Well, he looked like that to her anyhow, having known him so long. Anyone else would just see tightness around the eyes and a stiff gait in how he walked, though it was at a normal pace. When he arrived on the scene, she apologized, “I am so sorry to call you in, Grissom, but with the Feds involved, and Ecklie looking to be the next head of the lab…”

 

“It’s fine, Catherine, thanks for calling me. How are Martin and Jack?” Gil interrupted, glancing around the crime scene.

 

“Fitzgerald’s going to be fine. He’s in surgery, but it’s routine for that type of shooting,” Sara answered, joining them. “Malone called Brass and he gave me the update. You okay, Grissom?”

 

A little testy, Gil replied, “I’m fine. What do we have so far?”

 

Shooing Sara silently away with a glance, not wanting her to get on the wrong side of Gil’s bad mood, Catherine informed him, “Bullet to the head and two in the chest. Long-range rifle, origin of the shot to be determined. No one aside from Agent Fitzgerald and the vic were shot. Witnesses say Fitzgerald moved to put Mastroianni in the car just before the shots were fired, so I’m sure he wasn’t a target.”

 

“Wrong place and time,” Gil agreed with a grimace. “All right. Let’s get to work. Warrick, go help Sara with determining the point of origin. How long until David gets here?”

 

“Should be any minute. There was a traffic jam holding him up,” Catherine said.

 

“Okay. Pictures?”

 

“Greg’s working on them. And Brass is taking the witness statements with the unis.”

 

“So why am I here again?”

 

Catherine shared the wry grin and told him, “Ecklie’s over there. Go play nice. I’ll wait for David.”

 

Not-quite stifling a sigh, Gil nodded and walked away. She watched as he exchanged some tense words with Ecklie and shook her head. Dealing with Ecklie on a good day wasn’t fun and, with Nick leaving, this was definitely not a good day. Add to that the pressure of keeping jurisdiction from the Feds…Gil was not up for his best day ever, no doubt about that.

 

Since there wasn’t anything she could do to help, though, Catherine walked over to the body to wait for David.

 

*  *  *  *

 

It was a long damn day by the time they got all the evidence collected and brought back to the lab, let alone examined with a fine-toothed comb. By the end of it, Warrick was about ready to drop and he wasn’t even the one with the hangover. It was a professional hit, through and through, and he knew that they weren’t going to find anyone to link to the murder. People who made kills that flawless, from a distance that far away, didn’t make mistakes.

 

Fitzgerald being shot was starting to look less and less like an error, and more and more like a warning. One that read loud and clear, ‘Keep your nose out of Family Business.’ It was a perfect shot through the shoulder, above the heart, no bones hit, no arteries nicked, and the bullet going straight through. Too perfect to have been a fluke or mistake.

 

Warrick had the thought that Jack would take that warning and find the nearest Family member’s ass to shove it up.

 

Fortunately, that was Malone’s problem. Grissom and Ecklie had argued with the man for an hour straight, but jurisdiction was being handed over to the local FBI office. That meant all the evidence, what there was of it, would be carted to their labs and CSI didn’t need to think about it any more.

 

Shaking his head, Warrick sat on the locker room bench with a sigh. Only one day without Nicky and already it felt like he was ready to unravel. When had he grown so dependent on the other man? On both men, he silently amended. Because Grissom was just as necessary for his emotional and mental well-being as Nick was, as strange a thought as that was to realize. At some point over the last several months, he’d fallen headlong in love with Gil as much as he was with Nick.

 

Just means you’re a glutton for punishment, he thought wryly.

 

Nick had called shortly after Warrick and Grissom had arrived at the crime scene, a little worried that he’d had to get in touch via the cellphone, when he’d left Grissom lying almost comatose on the sofa. They’d had only a brief conversation about what was going on, Nick had assured him that he was fine and would be checking in to the program that afternoon, and then they’d hung up after a softly exchanged, ‘I love you.’ If he hadn’t been at a crime scene, he’d’ve hunted Grissom down to hear that from Nick, too.

 

“Hey, Warrick, how’s it going?”

 

Warrick looked over at Greg’s tired face and offered a weary smile. “I’ve had better days. How about you?”

“I’m cool. Definitely not up for that date tonight, though, no doubt,” Greg answered emphatically. “Man, I knew how long my day could get, being in the field, but I didn’t really know, you know?”

 

Chuckling, Warrick nodded and started taking off his vest. “Yeah man, I know.”

 

“So what’re you upto this weekend, since Nick’s gone to his folks?”

 

“No idea. Probably just lay low. You?”

 

“Soon as I sleep a good twelve hours, I’m out to a party tomorrow night. You want to come?”

 

Warrick shook his head and answered, “No, thanks, Greg, I’m good.”

 

Out of his own field clothes faster than Warrick, Greg pulled a backpack from the locker and said, “You know where to reach me if you change your mind. Have a good one!”

 

“You too,” Warrick called after the younger man.

 

Finally ready to go a few minutes later, Warrick slid his wallet into his back pocket and went in search of Grissom, thinking, Chinese and early to bed sounds really damn good. No alcohol though, or Gris might hurl.

 

Chuckling a little meanly at the thought, Warrick headed for the elevator.

*  *  *  *

 

Jack waited impatiently for the nurse to come back and tell him which room Martin was being transferred to, from recovery. Brass had long since gone, having paperwork to tie up, leaving Jack with no one but the waiting room television for company.

 

“Agent Malone?”

 

Jack turned to find a nurse smiling at him and asked, “Is my colleague all set?”

 

“He is,” she confirmed. “If you’ll come with me, I can allow a few minutes with him.”

 

Grateful to get whatever he could, Jack nodded and followed her down the hall to the elevator. It was only a few minutes to get to the third floor and Martin’s room, thankfully, and Jack found the younger man dozing when he got there. Not wanting to wake him up, Jack picked up a chair and brought it over to the bed, sitting down so he could just look at his lover.

 

It was a crazy thing, having an affair with a subordinate. He’d done it once before and had been lucky that Sam hadn’t gone Fatal Attraction on him or sued him for sexual harassment. On the surface, this seemed to be the same thing, if a mid-life crisis of a more substantial nature, given the same-sex aspect to the affair. But Jack hated to paint it with the same brush. The feelings he’d had for Sam weren’t anything like the ones he had for Martin, though no less real.

 

He got a headache, sometimes, just trying to untangle the mess he’d made of his life.

 

“Jack?”

 

Looking over at Martin’s groggy calling of his name, Jack offered a smile as he shifted from chair to the edge of the bed. Taking his lover’s hand, he greeted softly, “Hey, how’re you feeling?”

 

“Well, I can’t feel my shoulder, so that’s good,” Martin answered, quirking a brief grin at him.

 

Jack nodded agreement. “You’re going to be fine with some physical therapy and time. I, on the other hand, have to face Viv and Sam.”

 

Martin chuckled, apparently unsympathetic, and replied, “Serves you right, not being psychic and all.”

 

Jack snorted, bringing Martin’s hand up so he could kiss the palm. Staring into the other man’s slightly dazed eyes, Jack murmured, “Thought I’d lost you there.”

 

“Nah,” Martin assured him through a yawn. “I’m a lot harder to get rid of than this. I did say I’ve got more than one shoulder, didn’t I?”

 

Smiling, Jack stole a kiss from Martin’s lips before replying, “You did, but I like you with both. Get some rest. I’ve got a ton of paperwork to do at the local office, so I need to get going.”

 

“Go, have fun,” Martin teased, eyelids already drooping.

 

Jack pressed his lips to Martin’s forehead and waited until his lover’s breathing had evened out before leaving.

 

*  *  *  *

 

The facility was a lot more modern than Nick had expected, even having seen pictures of it online. He was reminded of a university campus, more than a mental and drug treatment facility. There was a gate and fence around the compound, of course, but all in all, it looked very friendly. The people they’d passed so far all seemed competent and soothing, in that ‘really well paid’ sort of way. It wasn’t some place that paid minimum wage to a staff who didn’t care, that was for sure.

 

Smiling nervously at his mother as they were escorted to Dr. Feldan’s office, he said again, “I’m really sorry about this, Mom.”

 

“Honey, it’s all right,” she assured him, her hand tightening briefly on his. “What are mothers for?”

 

It went without saying that his parents wasn’t being told exactly why he’d entered the program. Nick had exaggerated about job-related stress and endured the ‘if you were a lawyer’ speech from his father for the millionth time, with fairly good grace. He knew that his parents definitely wouldn’t disown him for being gay, but being in a triad would be pushing things. And giving details about what had happened during his kidnapping was out of the question, too.

 

Reaching the large, well-organized and comfortable office, Nick nodded at their male nurse escort and said, “Thanks, man.”

 

“Give me a holler if you need help, Mr. Stokes,” the man, Randy, replied with a smile. “I’m on days.”

 

Then they were being greeted by a petite redhead with warm gray eyes and a soft voice, shaking hands with her and brought over to leather sofa and chairs around a glass coffee table. It was all so normal, that it felt surreal to Nick.

 

“You can visit him in two weeks, as we discussed over the phone, Mrs. Stokes,” Dr. Feldan reiterated with a smile. “We’re going to be very intensive during that time and interruptions or demands from family members, even well-meaning ones, would be detrimental. Do either of you have any more questions before we start the paperwork?”

 

Nick hesitated, then asked, “You said phone calls were out too, right?”

 

“For the first two weeks, yes,” Dr. Feldan confirmed. “Unless there’s an emergency of some sort.”

 

“And you decide what an emergency is.”

 

“That’s correct.”

 

It was a big decision and Nick knew that he could back out right now and no one would think the less of him. And yet, he wanted to get over this unreasoning fear that kept him hostage. He wanted to be able to have his lovers lean on him for a change, instead of doing all the leaning. Nick bit his lip and said, “Where do I sign?”

 

Smiling again, Dr. Feldan pushed a set of papers towards him and they started the paperwork that would commit him for an eight-week session.

 

Nick could only pray that he was making the right decision.

 

*  *  *  *

 

A week without Nick had turned into seven long-assed days of trying not to kill Grissom. The man hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called himself a first class bastard, even if he hadn’t finished the sentence at the time. He was picky. He was finicky. He was testy. It was walking through a minefield, but alternately being completely ignored. Warrick was glad when a double turned into a triple and he had to sleep on the cot in the back of the lab area, even if that did mean he had to wear earplugs to tune out Greg’s music.

 

And then, the eighth day after Nick had left, Warrick caught sight of Gil in an unguarded moment while the other man had thought himself alone in the bathroom at work. He was leaning on the counter, head bowed in a defeated way, shoulders shaking with what had to be either tears, or repressed emotions. It was then, that Warrick finally got why Nick was so insistent that Grissom had to be given extra care and attention.

 

He backed silently out of the bathroom, leaving the other man to his grief and loss, but immediately went looking for Catherine. He found her in the garage, disassembling a damn fine looking BMW, and asked, “Hey Cath, you got a second?”

 

Pushing up the faceplate, Catherine nodded and switched off the blowtorch. “What’s up?”

 

“I seriously need to get Grissom out of here for a whole twenty-four hours,” he replied. “Can you figure out a way to pry his ass outta the lab?”

 

Catherine looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Yeah, I think I can manage it. I gather you want the same time span off?”

 

He snorted. “That’d be helpful.”

 

Wagging the torch at him, she warned, “You shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you. Or in this case, the hand that arranges your sex life.”

 

Warrick laughed and bowed towards her. “Thanks, Cath, I owe you.”

 

“Don’t think I won’t collect!” she called after him as he left.

 

He was still chuckling as he headed out of the garage to start making arrangements.

 

*  *  *  *

 

Gil frowned as he realized that he wasn’t dreaming, that someone really was knocking on his office door. Groaning, he sat upright and winced at the pinch in his neck. Pulling his glasses on, he found Catherine waving at him through the glass portion of the door and sighed, waving her in.

 

“You are so going to owe me for this,” Catherine began without preamble.

 

Gil blinked. “Oh?”

 

“Ecklie’s on the warpath and he’s heading this way.”

 

Alarmed by the thought of dealing with Conrad in his current state, Gil asked, “What does he want?”

 

Catherine paused dramatically, then said, “All the supervisors for a three hour accounting and overtime budgetary meeting.”

 

Horrified, Gil looked at the clock and got quickly to his feet, gathering his things together as quickly as he could. “Cover for me?”

 

“You better call in sick tomorrow, too,” Catherine warned.

 

“There’s more?”

 

“I heard through the grapevine that tomorrow night’s an entire shift, in two parts of course, and possibly potty breaks, for...workman’s comp.”

 

Gil grabbed his keys and kissed Catherine on his way to the door. “You’re the best friend and yes, I completely owe you for this. I’ll see you in two days.”

 

“I’ll lock up for you.”

 

“Thanks, Catherine.”

 

It wasn’t until Gil was almost to the parking lot that he thought to wonder why Catherine was whistling “Everybody Plays A Fool,” as he’d hurried from the office. Shrugging off the curious behavior, he concentrated on what might happen when he got home for the first time in four days.

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