Title: Falling
By: gnr_lab_rat
Pairing: pre-slash Gil/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nick loved this part, that feeling of dancing on the doorstep of the grim reaper, only to be snatched back as the updraft pulled him towards the sky once more.

***

Things had changed, Nick knew, had expected it the moment he found out that they were being moved to Ecklie's team. But somehow he hadn't expected things to change quite as much as they had. He supposed it was only natural that they drifted apart, not seeing each other everyday at work and working completely opposite shifts kind of had that effect on a working relationship.

They'd all been upset at the change, Sara probably taking it a little harder than the rest, but he supposed that stemmed from her dislike of Ecklie - and who could blame her - as well as her not so subtle crush on Grissom. She'd been moody and downright bitchy to everyone as of late and never seemed able to get her emotions under control.

The final straw seemed to come when she insulted both Catherine and Ecklie, earning herself a one week suspension and for reasons he couldn't fathom, Grissom's determined loyalty. He stopped trying to figure out what was going on between the two of them long ago, telling himself it wasn't any of his business, all the while hoping desperately that it turned out to be nothing more than a crush on Sara's part.

Then he'd noticed Sofia, the way she acted around Grissom, and suddenly all those feelings of insecurity and jealousy came flooding back. It didn't make sense to him. Why should he feel insecure in his friendship with Grissom - jealous that someone else was able to hold his attention so raptly? And yet it did - it bothered him more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

Nick glanced up as the break room door opened, revealing a quite obviously pissed-off Sara. He didn't say anything, just waited for the explosion about to erupt from the woman in front of him. She flopped into the seat opposite him, fists clenched on the table in front of her. "They're going out."

"Who?"

"Grissom and Sofia," Sara replied, venom dripping on Sofia's name.

"Out, as in on a date?" Nick felt his stomach tighten, forcing himself to not let how bothered he was by this news show on his face.

"He asked her out to dinner! Can you believe it?!" Sara fumed, pushing back from the table, beginning to pace the small room. "He barely knows her, he works with her - hasn't he said all along that he didn't want a relationship with a co-worker?"

Nick bit his lip, stopping himself from pointing out that Grissom may have only meant that he didn't want a relationship with Sara herself.

With a deep sigh Nick stood, placing a comforting hand on Sara's shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing more than dinner." Smiling weakly at her he withdrew his hand. "I'm going to head out. See you tomorrow, Sara." Sara nodded as Nick walked from the room.

He walked to his Tahoe, enjoying the breeze that blew across his warm skin. He almost didn't see them, but there they were walking towards the lab, laughing together at some inside joke only they knew. Once again Nick felt his stomach tighten. He hadn't thought it would hurt quite so much seeing them together. He hadn't actually believed Sara was right about them, but what he saw now left no doubt in his mind.

---

Grissom grinned, placing a hand on Sofia's lower back guiding her towards the lab. He looked up to see Nick at his Tahoe, obviously on his way home. Telling Sofia he would see her inside, he made his way towards Nick, wanting to see how he was doing. The change in shift had made it much harder for all of them to spend any time together. Grissom missed his team.

---

"Nick," Grissom greeted the young man.

"Hey, Gris."

"Heading home?"

"Yeah, long day, need to get some shut eye." Nick smiled, hoping that Grissom wouldn't talk long.

"How are things going with Ecklie?"

"Fine. The night shift?" Nick asked politely, despite the fact he was sure he didn't really want to know.

"It's not the same without the team, but it's alright. Sara starts back on graveyard tonight."

"Yeah, I just saw her in the break room."

"Well..." Grissom hesitated, seemingly not sure what else to say.

"You better get in there." Nick smiled again, another polite smile, one that was automatic, a friend talking to another friend; nothing more, nothing less.

"Yeah...I'll talk to you..."

"Later. Have a good shift." Quickly opening the door to his Tahoe, Nick climbed in and started the engine, throwing a slight wave at Grissom as he pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive home gave him more than enough time to become agitated over the days events. Events in and of themselves that most people would disregard. And yet as he drove, he could see Grissom and Sofia walking close together through the parking lot, laughing at their shared joke, hear Sara's angry voice They're going out and at that moment in time it was all too much. Taking the next exit, Nick made his way south. He needed escape and he knew the perfect place to find it. He'd only done it a couple of times, both experiences ones of pure exhilaration but frightening at the same time. He needed to forget about Grissom, Sofia, the lab and the only way he knew how to do that was to fly.

It didn't take long to get himself equipped. He bounced the weight of the glider in his hands, and adjusted it as needed before taking that leap from the cliff's edge. The first moment, as he fell, his breath caught in his throat, and the thought that he would keep plummeting to the bottom of the gorge made him light headed. Then the wind would shift, lifting him higher into the air and he was flying. Everything else would leave his mind and the only thing he would have to think about was catching the next updraft to keep himself floating on his invisible cushion.

It had worked, for a while; he thought of nothing but flying, feeling the empty air around him, seeing the beauty of the desert below him. He had almost forgotten completely about what he'd seen, almost. He mentally cursed to himself as that pain in his heart came back again. He had no reason to feel like this. Grissom was a friend, nothing more - he'd never mentioned his feelings, tried his damnedest to hide what he felt from everyone, but especially from Grissom and he'd thought he'd done a pretty bang up job of it too.

His stomach rose as the glider plummeted, following the downdraft towards the gorge's bottom. Nick loved this part, that feeling of dancing on the doorstep of the grim reaper, only to be snatched back as the updraft pulled him towards the sky once more.

He almost didn't hear it above the rush of air around him, but the sudden loss of his cushion was all too apparent as he began the swift decent towards the rocks below. Glancing up, he closed his eyes; the rip showed cloud where his glider should have been.

He almost laughed as he waited to hit the ground, it seemed so surreal. One minute he's floating without a care in the world and the next he's seconds from being splattered on the desert floor. He didn't have to worry about telling Grissom about these feelings anymore, at least. The irony of that thought didn't escape him. Funny how it didn't really seem to ease the sense of loss he felt.

Loss at not being able to tell Grissom what he felt.

And if that wasn't just a kick in the ass. Here he'd spent all this time and energy hiding from his feelings, hiding himself from Grissom and now when he couldn't do a damned thing about it all he wanted to do was tell Grissom how much he meant to him, how he'd felt for so long that he didn't remember anymore when it had all started.

It surprised him when he hit the ground, he'd expected more pain, or to be honest he expected no pain—he was sure the fall would kill him. And yet here he was lying tangled in his glider, with an obviously broken arm, cracked ribs and a strange numbing sensation in his lower back.

Initial catalogue of injuries completed, he wondered what exactly he should do now. Obviously the owners of the glider he was now mangled in would notice when he didn't return, and he was sure that Catherine and Warrick would miss him when he didn't show up for his shift, was sure Ecklie would have his walking papers ready if he ever got out of this, but none of it mattered.

Shock would set in before anyone really noticed he was missing and he knew he wouldn't survive the night in the desert in the middle of February. It might be hot and sunny during the day, but desert nights were colder than a polar bear's nose.

He didn't miss the fact that he could see the setting sun glinting off the windshield of his Tahoe. So close and yet so far. He cringed as he moved, the pain flourishing in his battered body as he tried to untangle himself from the glider, hell bent on dying in a more dignified pose.

His throat felt hoarse after his initial scream passed - he couldn't remember pain like this. Even when he'd been shot in Dallas while still a cop. A grazing shot to his thigh, a burning sensation, and that's all he remembered. He was sure it had hurt much worse than he remembered right now, but the only pain he could concentrate on was the one localized in his lower back.

Moving his unbroken arm behind him, Nick gingerly felt along his lower back looking for what was causing the pain - and boy did he find it. A small metal bar from the glider had pierced his back. Wonderful, he thought, placing as much pressure on the wound as he could without causing more damage. Attracting all manner of hungry animals by the overwhelming sent of blood was not exactly how he'd envisioned himself dying.

Thoughts flittered through his mind as he tried to relax, to help ease away the pain from the fall, from the opened bleeding gash in his back. He wondered when they would find him, if Super Dave's little thermometer would tell them they had been hours too late or only a few too many minutes.

In his mind's eye he could see his team working the scene, gingerly moving his body into the cold dark plastic of a body bag, placing him gently onto a gurney and shoving his silent body into the corner's van. His breath hitched at the unbidden images of Doc Robbins slicing into his chest, needing to perform his duty, despite already knowing what had killed him.

He tried desperately to think of something else, anything else but the painful, lonely, image of himself lying in the cold morgue, a sheet placed carefully over his body and face. The images wouldn't fade and he found himself wondering what his team, his friends would say.

Would they be upset?

Would he be upset, was what was really on Nick's mind. He wondered if Grissom would miss him, wondered if he would be there when Doc Robbins did his job - made his report.

He forced his mind to bring Grissom's face into view, wanting to remember him smiling, laughing. A sharp stab of hurt filled him as his mind added Sofia to Grissom's side, there to comfort him over the loss of his co-worker. Was that all he was to Grissom? A co-worker...God how he wished he'd had the chance to be so much more.

He could feel the blood drying on his fingers, scratching at his skin and reminding him of his surroundings. He didn't want to die - wished with every aching fiber of his being that he could contact someone, do something to save himself. The idea of trying to crawl up the cliff's worn path towards his Tahoe briefly flashed in his mind.

Could he manage it? Looking up at the top of the cliff, the sheer height made him dizzy. It was such a long way, and he was so very tired. Closing his eyes briefly he willed himself to relax, telling his body he needed time to gain the energy to make his way up to the Tahoe...to the city...a hospital...to Grissom.

The desire to be given another opportunity to admit his true feelings to Grissom was enough to spur him into movement. A slow, painful, wretched movement that made him think of snails and turtles and just how much slower he was moving. Every inch of his body screamed at him to stop, to just lie there panting and wait. Wait for someone to come and find him, for someone else to get him to the top, to his Tahoe, the hospital...Gil. But there was no one here; probably wouldn't be for hours and by then it might be too late.

Nails breaking, fingers bleeding, he pushed on, forcing his body past its breaking point, desperate for help because he didn't want to die out here, not like this and not alone.

It felt like it had taken days for him to reach the top, unable to walk because the wound in his back had caused his right leg to go completely numb. He knew he had probably done more damage to his broken arm and cracked ribs but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that he was at the top and he was only mere feet from his Tahoe.

Pausing for a few minutes beside the vehicle, working up enough energy to pull himself to a standing position, he could see a small caterpillar making its way slowly under his rig, searching out shelter...food. It didn't matter what, at that moment Nick could relate to the small insect - so fragile.

With a final surge of adrenaline Nick pulled himself up, leaning heavily on the hood of his Tahoe as his fingers splayed to steady him on his feet. The movement, becoming vertical again, sent a wave of nausea through his stomach that almost had him collapsing over once more. Shear force of will stopped him from crumbling under the weight of the pain and nausea, from giving into his battered body and its begging for rest.

Sliding his hands along the Tahoe, eyes tightly closed, he reached for the door handle, groaning in both pain and pleasure as he managed to crawl inside and sit down. His hands shook from the exertion of the day's activities, and he bawled his fingers trying to temper their trembling. Taking a deep steadying breath he opened his eyes and stared out the windshield, watching the stars suddenly spring to life in the darkening sky. He'd gone far from the blinding city limits of Las Vegas and for one brief moment sat in awe of the beauty he so seldom saw as it was blotted out by the neon haze of the city.

His mind groggily registered that he should be doing something, that he wasn't yet out of danger. He wanted to scream, to cry, as he realized with horrible clarity that his keys were still in his jacket, and his jacket was still in the possession of the mangled gliders' owners, awaiting his return.

Laying his head on the steering wheel he felt a sense of hopelessness, a sense of despair creep over him and finally a sense of acceptance. He made it this far, at least he'd managed to succeed in providing himself with a more dignified place to die...at least this way he wouldn't be slowly nibbled by hungry animals. He took some small measure of comfort in that, knowing that he would still be intact when his team found him.

Opening his eyes into slits, he stared at the dashboard, suddenly desperately desiring a large glass of water. His lips were dry and cracked. His eyes were burning from dehydration. He was bleeding all over his nice clean interior. Laughing painfully he realized he was starting to lose it; worrying about the cleanliness of his car should have been the farthest thing from his mind, and yet he stared at the blood dripping from his fingertips onto the steering wheel and couldn't seem to stop himself from clumsily wiping them away with his sleeve.

Reaching out a shaky hand he turned on the radio, wanting something to drown out the morbid thoughts running through his mind. He didn't hear the words of the song playing, instead concentrating on the thrumming of the bass through his chest, latching onto it like it was his own heartbeat.

He almost missed the ringing, for a moment thinking it was a side effect of the dehydration and blood loss, and then his mind cleared and he remembered his cell phone. He had placed it in the console before leaving the Tahoe.

He opened the console, flipping open his cell with a detached sort of feeling floating around him. It seemed odd that he should be taking a call when he was in the middle of dying.

"Hello?"

"Nick?" The voice on the other end of his cell sent a shiver through his body, causing him to emit a slight moan as he jarred the wound in his back.

Tightening his grip on the phone he forced his voice to work. "Gris."

"Nick, are you alright? Where are you?" Grissom actually sounded worried, and Nick's clouded mind wondered if he really sounded that bad.

"I..." He wasn't even sure how to explain it. I got jealous of your new girlfriend, went gliding and almost killed myself? That sounded just about right. "I went gliding..."

"Gliding?"

"Hand gliding and I...had a bit of an accident," Nick rasped, suddenly feeling extremely tired.

"Accident? Are you hurt bad? Where are you?" Grissom demanded, firing questions at him one after another, each question making his head hurt more as he tried to think of answers for them.

In the end all he had managed was a whispered, "I'm sorry, Gil," before the phone slipped from his hand and the blessed darkness engulfed him.

----

Nick didn't hear the yelling from Grissom on the other line, frantically calling to him. He didn't know Grissom had traced the cell phone still connected to the one lying on his Tahoe's floor. He didn't hear the screaming sirens rushing their way towards him, nor did he feel the cool night air that wafted into the Tahoe when Grissom yanked it opened.

He did feel hands though, gently probing his swollen and bruised body, looking for the worst injuries. He could hear in the distance someone calling his name and he wanted desperately to answer, something in the tone was familiar and stirred a longing in him for more. He wanted to open his eyes, to see who was touching him with such care, touching him as if the person already knew every inch of his body.

He felt strong arms lifting him, sliding him onto something soft. Felt a sharp prick in his hand and then something warm running between his fingers. He could feel something being draped over him and in a panic stricken moment he thought of being covered by a crisp white sheet...being placed on a cold metal slab in a lonely, too bright room. And he began to struggle, to prove to whoever was moving him that he was alive - desperate to make sure they knew he was alive!

Then he felt warm arms wrap around his own, a calming voice whispering in his ear. He couldn't hear the words, couldn't make out what the person was saying but it didn't matter, they knew he was alive and he relaxed in the feel of the comforting arms and soothing voice.

---

He opened his eyes slowly, the bright lights of the room he was in blinding him, making him shut his eyes tightly again, twisting his head away from the light source. His movement alerted the presence in the room to him being conscious again, and he felt warm fingers touch his face.

"Nicky?" That soft, worried, questioning voice made his throat tighten with emotion. How long ago had it been when he'd desperately wished for the chance to tell Grissom everything, and now...

He opened his eyes again, seeing Grissom's handsome features swim into view. He looked tired, haggard, and Nick idly wondered what had happened to give Grissom that look.

"Gris," he rasped, his throat feeling like the desert he had almost died in. A straw was placed to his lips and he tried to gulp away his thirst, almost whimpering when Gil pulled the straw away.

"Not too fast, you'll get sick." Grissom sat down, folding his hands on the bed beside Nick's body.

"Thanks," Nick whispered.

---

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Grissom's brow creased in contemplation of the man lying in the bed before him.

"My glider ripped, I hit the ground, nothing else to tell." Nick grinned, trying to make light of the situation.

"How did you get back to the Tahoe?" Grissom's fingers began to drum on the blanket, his agitation obvious.

"I crawled," was the answer, spoken so casually Grissom felt his stomach clench at the image of Nick bloody and crawling desperately towards rescue.

"Nicky..." Grissom wanted to ask what Nick had meant by the whispered apology on the phone, but seeing him like this, knowing what he must have gone through, the question wouldn't form on his lips. Instead he reached over, gently curling his fingers around Nick's scraped and bruised ones. He gave a bone weary sigh and simple squeezed Nick's hand. "I'm glad you're okay, Nicky."

---

Nick gave a weak smile, returning Grissom's touch, and knew at that moment that he couldn't tell Grissom the truth - couldn't bear to hear Grissom tell him there would never be anything more than friendship between them. At least this way he could live with the illusion of hope...and he knew it would have to be enough.

***

Notes: Nixa Jane wrote a wonderful sequel to this story called Nirvana Blue, you can read it here.