Title: The Ghost and Dr Grissom
Author: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 29301
Pairings: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes and all the usual suspects and more.
Warnings: Fluff and v.AU. There is a MAJOR character death, as if you hadn’t guessed.
Spoilers: There are vague references to old episodes.
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Beta: jayceepat and podga for their invaluable help in the Americanisation of the fic and their insightful comments, which I may well have ignored! I thank high_striker for his wonderful icons. I am indebted to them all. Any errors are mine.
Note: The Ghost and Dr Grissom - The Prologue is here
A/N: This is loosely based on a very old UK telly programme (there was a remake) called ‘Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased)’. I know I have (unforgivably) killed off my favourite character but I hope the title is an indication that it isn’t ALL bad.

When Gil woke he felt rested and pleasantly comfortable. His eyes, however, felt as if he’d rubbed gravel in them – as he thought that, he sat straight up in bed and remembered the death of Nick. How could he feel so relaxed when he’d had the worst day of his life dealing with the death of Nick Stokes? He sank back onto his pillows – there was absolutely no doubt about it – he did feel better than he had for a long time and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recreate the misery of – he looked at his bedside clock – eight and half hours ago. Eight and half HOURS…he never slept that long, ever, he never felt this good, what on earth was wrong with him?

He slung the bedclothes aside and noted his naked form – he never slept naked either – and went towards his bathroom and stopped and looked back at the bed and then around the room – he had the oddest feeling that he was being watched. Of course, there was no one there; it was another oddity in this odd scenario.

In the bathroom, he took a piss and without washing his hands he stepped into the shower and turned it on – the cold water assaulting his warm body – he left it cool to try and shake himself into more alertness. Perhaps his crying episode had relieved his tension and emotions (huh, Catherine wouldn’t believe he had emotions) and a good sleep had done the rest, but he did not feel the grief that had overwhelmed him just hours before.

He washed himself vigorously in the luke-warm water, rinsed off and then stepped out and dried himself off. He went back into his bedroom and unearthed a pair of sweats and a tee, put them on and set out to get some food – he was starving hungry. As he left the bedroom he looked back again into the room, he felt as if there were eyes on him and in response the hairs on the back of neck bristled. He shook himself and admonished himself for being stupid. He wasn’t spooked by this sort of thing, except…….

Nick had been dead for less than twenty four hours and he was a little spooked himself – after all he’d never been dead before. Except that he wasn’t spooked and didn’t actually ‘feel’ dead. He knew he was and that he could do odd things like…well…walk through walls and imagine himself somewhere and he’d just go there.

He hadn’t liked that much ‘cause he’d imagined his Texas home and when he’d arrived in the parlour his entire family, and then some, were engaged in a collective bout of extreme misery over his very death. He’d tried to comfort his mother, but she hadn’t responded at all – not like Gris who’d quieted at his comforting and eventually fallen sound asleep and looked happy and peaceful.

He was too distressed to stay with his family, although ‘distress’, like ‘spooked’, didn’t actually describe the feeling. As he’d stood in the midst of his family with all of their sorrow, he’d thought of Gris and that he would be sensible about it all. So he’d then ended up in Gris’ bedroom – and that did (nearly) spook him! He could hear movement in the bathroom, and then a very nekkid Gris had walked into the room. Nick’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head. It was sensory overload and he would have been mortally embarrassed – if he’d been mortal.

The first thought he’d had was, ‘THAT is a specimen and a half!’ (He was still a guy after all.) And then, ‘……he’s overweight, more than I thought, he should diet and exercise more, needs to lose about twenty…twenty-five pounds.’ And then, ‘….he looks dreadful, it’s going to be like being with my family…but there’s only one of him so I’ll see if I can do the comfort thing.’

Nick watched as Gris sat on the side of the bed and looked down at his legs and feet and then collapsed and sobbed like Nick had never heard before, jeez it was worse than his Momma. So he tried the comfort thing, a little hesitantly, Gris was stark naked an’ all. But he figured he was dead and invisible so it didn’t matter much and Gris was broken hearted. So he’d rubbed Gris’ back but immediately encountered a problem. His hand didn’t exactly dip into Gris’ body but it sort of splayed out – like a clear, kind of, errr…jello.

The first time he’d made a disgusted ‘ugh’ but then tried again a little more gently and after a few tries, he got the hang of it so ventured up to Gris’ hair and stroked his head. He was surprised at that – he’d always imagined, (he’d imagined Gris’ hair?) that his hair would be wiry or curly like pubic hair, but the hair was soft, and damp from his shower.

Gris had still sobbed so Nick moved in a little closer and started whispering almost directly into Gris’ ear, ‘S’okay. Don’t worry. Calm down, I’m here I haven’t gone anywhere.’ He’d repeated this mantra while stroking, it was easier than rubbing, Gris’ back and head. In a short time Nick noticed that Gris was relaxing. He straightened out, stretched and gathered his blankets around himself and went to sleep.

Nick felt, or nearly felt, pleased with himself – it was a result. But what was he going to do, he needed some sort of plan, or so he thought, but didn’t quite know what. He thought of Catherine and he was suddenly in her bedroom – well he assumed it was - and he sincerely wished he wasn’t where he was but still stayed and watched a while, (he was a guy after all). Catherine was in her bed and she was naked as well, but not grief stricken like his family or Gris and not alone like Gris. No indeedy.

His best friend, one Warrick Brown, was providing the said Catherine with what amounted to a ‘good fucking’. Catherine was…she didn’t look particularly enthralled… on closer inspection she was crying after all, but she found her voice to egg ‘Rick on – Nick suddenly thought he was behaving in an ungentlemanly fashion and decided to think of somewhere else.

Sara’s lounge was an unwelcoming place – it was boring, poorly decorated and badly furnished – there was no care taken of this apartment. Sara had a half bottle of tequila by her side and was taking shots. That saddened Nick – was his death responsible for her fall off the wagon?

He felt like he should be depressed so he thought he’d return to Gris’ townhouse, despite the sorrow he’d encountered there it had none of the bleakness of the other homes he’d ‘visited’.

Arriving back in Gris’ bedroom, he’d been surprised to find that he’d left six hours ago. In human terms it seemed like six minutes. Perhaps this dematerialising and re-materialising took longer than he thought – it was cool that he had words to describe it now. What was he then? What did they have in Ghostbusters? Ectoplasm – that was it - he was ‘ectoplasmic’ – that was seriously cool! And he was wearing clothes, the same outfit he was wearing at the time of his death only without a jacket or his vest. They had the same sort of consistency as his flesh.

He walked through the wall without realising what he’d done and his jello, no, his ectoplasm, shivered. So he tried it again and again – like when he touched Gris – and got the hang of it – you just had to imagine yourself through the procedure. When he got bored with that he went over to the bed and threw himself onto the side without a sleeping Gris.

Big mistake. He fell nearly through the bed to the floor and had to wriggle his body, no, his ectoplasm, out of it. He’d been on the bed before so he knew he could do it – he just needed to steady himself and be gentle and avoid violent movement.

He lay back against the headboard and put his hands behind his head linking his fingers. He could almost feel it – but not quite. He looked down at Gris who was clearly dreaming and looked to be having a good time. Nick frowned at that but didn’t see any evidence of THAT type of dream!

So he lay there and contemplated just what happened today, to him. He’d driven out to the scene. The DB was just out of their reach so Nick had said he’d go back to his truck to retrieve a rope to see if they could improvise. Gris had agreed but said he thought that they would probably have to wait for search and rescue. Nick had got the rope and gone back to the scene. He’d made a joke about the search and rescue team and Gris had given him his usual little lecture – after all this time working together he still couldn’t see when Nick was joking.

The pounding of the helicopter rotors had got Nick’s attention and as he turned to look for it he’d become dizzy and in a split second had lost his balance and fallen backwards. The last thing he saw, alive, was outstretched hands trying to grab him – but they were too far away. The next thing he remembered was Gris saying ‘Nick, Nick’ to him in a quiet voice.

Nick had said, ‘What?’, and had then seen everyone there, including himself on the ground. It was like being in a swirling fog. He was lying in a pool of blood, serious head trauma, and had a startled and completely blank look on his face. Dead then. He hadn’t been shocked or amazed, or any adjective he could think of, just ‘there’, watching. Gris. Crying without a sound. Catherine. Crying against ‘Rick. ‘Rick. Standing looking at his body.

It was like…what did his Momma call it…a tableau.

He swirled around a bit then and there were lots of people he knew milling around. Gris covered his body up – first mistake he’d ever seen Gris make at a scene – contaminating the evidence. Everyone left Gris alone with him and then David was there sticking a thermometer in his liver. He shuddered at the invasion – but obviously didn’t feel a thing.

Then a ride in a helicopter or more accurately on a helicopter. That was seriously peculiar because they’d loaded his body up and closed the doors before he knew what to do so he’d just plastered his ‘ectoplasm’ against the side of the ‘copter and ridden to the lab.

It was a very sweet scene at the helipad and he was touched at his colleagues and friends who’d waited for him. Only they couldn’t see him. He accompanied the paramedics and Gris to the morgue where the Doc was waiting. When he realised what was going to happen, he thought that was just too gross to watch. But he heard Gris speak to his Daddy and thought that he should be with his Momma.

That was it really; he’d then come back to Gris, here, in this room.

So……what next?

He didn’t have time to contemplate anything else because sleepy head beside him roused himself and stretched and sighed contentedly. He then shot up straight which startled Nick but then he flopped down again. Strange to see someone familiar in such unfamiliar circumstances.

Gris then rose from his bed and walked towards his bathroom watched intently by Nick. Then Nick nearly fell through the bed again because Gris stood still and then turned around and scanned the room with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Can you see me Gris? Can you see me?” he shouted out to the man, but was ignored.

This was a new turn of events – of course people said they could see ghosts and he guessed he was a ghost – but Gris, level headed, spookless Gris, would he be able to see him?

“Wow!.” He said out loud. But he had no idea what to do or how to get Gris’ attention. It struck him that he’d hadn’t seen anyone other than live people he knew, no other dead people he knew, no angels, or even devils, or anything, not even the proverbial bright light. Nothing at all – he was flying solo here, he’d have to make it up as he went along. He thought about this and what really amazed him was that he thought he should be frightened, terrified or in some other severe emotional state. But he felt sort of happy and contented, even in the face of the grief he’d encountered.

He waited for Gris to finish his shower, the man took ages, but he had more to wash Nick thought slyly and chuckled. When Gris emerged, all bright eyed and bushy tailed he’d dressed casually and went to leave the room. But, as he did he stopped and looked around him – again.

Nick was nearly exhausted, except he wasn't at all; he’d been jumping up and down and flailing his arms around, shouting in Gris’ face and nothing had caught Gris’ attention. Nick had stomped his ectoplasmic foot right through the floorboards as Gris left the room and huffed at his failed attempts to attract Gris’ attention. Something worked because Gris had stopped and looked around more intently than before, his eyes scanning the room and his forehead wrinkled in a frown.

Gil went down to his kitchen and rustled up some eggs and toast and coffee, and took a hefty swig of juice – straight from the carton. ‘Wow…who’d have ever thought Gris would have bad habits.’ Man…I’m so going to roast him when…if….I can get his attention.

Gil ate his food at his breakfast bar and had just started his second coffee when his cell started ringing. It was upstairs and Gil moved fast to get to it – Nick was impressed. It was Ecklie stating that Nick’s parents would be arriving in two hours. Gil promised he would be at the lab in good time. Ecklie would get his secretary to call in the team.

Gil returned to the kitchen and Nick resumed his attention grabbing antics. It was clear that Gil was disturbed by something. He looked around and shivered once, he definitely thought he was being watched.

“Stupid man, these emotions are not what they’re cracked up to be.” Gil said out loud and Nick groaned.

Gil then made his way back to his bedroom, retrieved his glasses from his coat, he’d unceremoniously dumped it outside the bathroom door and picked up a journal from his beside table. He went into his bathroom - Nick still desperately trying to attract his attention - and closed the door. Nick was about to follow and then stopped himself. ‘No, a man needs a little privacy’. And then ruminated on the fact that the house was empty but Gris had still closed and locked the bathroom door for this but didn’t bother when he showered - just as Nick did, well he did when he was alive.

That brought another thought to Nick’s mind. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty; he didn’t need to pee or…that was useful then, but if his innards were ectoplasmic, (he liked that word), he didn’t think they’d be doing anything anyway. He felt for his own pulse and then chuckled, that’d be a first, he supposed.

Gil finished in the bathroom and came out and opened his closet to see what he could wear, something sombre and not too casual, like always then. He was just about to take out a pair of black pants and jacket when the clothes moved, as if rippled by a breeze. It didn’t frighten or even disturb Gil but he stepped back and frowned, there had been no reason at all for the movement, no breeze in the room and he hadn’t been touching the clothes as it happened.

Nick had been running backwards and forwards inside the closet like a demented……ghost. He had just thought of it as Gris had opened the doors and looked at his clothes. Now that Gris was REALLY looking in the closet Nick jumped up and down on the spot not two feet away from him and was rewarded when the clothes moved a little more.

Gil was certainly curious about what had happened and suddenly thought that there was, perhaps, an animal or bird trapped in there and moved in to check around. As he did so he encountered one of the strangest sensations he’d ever felt; he’d moved right into the door opening and of course, unbeknown to him, he was actually touching, chest to chest, Nick Stokes’…ectoplasm.

To Gil it felt like…he couldn’t think what it was like…well…wading through water that wasn’t there…no…being held back by a high wind that wasn’t there…no….. Gil stepped back and moved forward again and this time this strange resistance was even more noticeable. Gil decided it was like wading through ’thick air’ although he knew it didn’t exist, but it was the only explanation he could come to in the short space of time. He needed to investigate this further but he also needed to leave in no more than ten minutes time to get to the lab to see Nick’s parents……. ‘Nick, Nick’ he said softly, reminding himself of the tragedy.

“I’m here Gris, I’m here. You can feel me, man, I know you can!”

Gil took sharp intake of breath because he could have sworn that just for a moment, much less than a second, he’d seen the face of Nick looking at him, right in front of him, in his closet. No sooner had he imagined he’d seen the face than ‘Dr Grissom’ took over and he said out loud, “For god’s sake pull yourself together, you stupid old fool. You’ll be chatting to a ghost next!” He then shut up because he was speaking out loud. He took his clothes out, feeling that strange sensation yet again but forced himself to ignore it and focus on dressing and leaving for the lab.

Nick was beside himself with joy. Gris had seen him. GRIS HAD SEEN HIM! He didn’t actually know how he knew; he just knew that he had been visible for a moment and that GRIS HAD SEEN HIM! He’d been impressed with his ghostly skill at moving the clothes, although the effort involved far outweighed the miniscule movement he’d managed to generate. But it didn’t matter. Although Gris had abandoned the matter to get dressed, Nick knew that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave it alone. Gris was an investigator, he investigated.

Gris had gone while Nick thought these thoughts and then thought some more; it would appear that things that Nick thought took seconds – like thoughts – were taking minutes and things he thought took minutes were taking hours. He didn’t think the ‘afterlife’, as this surely appeared to be, had clocks or time constraints.

Nick knew Gris was going to the lab to hand over his body to his Daddy and Momma. This was likely to be horrendous for all concerned and although Nick thought he shouldn’t go he was compelled to do so. He was nosy, he was an investigator too.

The next thing Nick knew he was in the break room and all his team mates and the lab rats were there, all looking appropriately attired and miserable. Nick wished that he could cheer them up; tell them it wasn’t so bad, he was hanging in there. Sara looked the worse, obviously having downed a considerable amount of the tequila Nick had seen. Catherine did look devastated, but now Nick wondered if it was his death or her guilt at using ‘Rick to ease the burden. Hell, he didn’t blame her or ‘Rick – he wondered then if they’d been meeting up beforehand - he didn’t know. ‘Sneaky’, he thought, ‘I’ll have to find that out.’

Everyone’s unease suddenly ratcheted up a notch and Nick saw Gris and Ecklie escorting his parents past the glass walls of the break room. They were going to the morgue to see him. Should he go or should he stay. With that thought he was inside the morgue. His parents were standing with Gris and the Doc – Ecklie had dropped back.

Nick heard Doc Robbins speaking quietly to his Daddy, who was holding onto his Momma as if his life depended on it. “There are no visible signs of injury on your son’s face, he looks peaceful. The terrible damage that caused his loss of life is all confined to the back of his head. My investigations have not disturbed him...”

‘Fancy way to say the autopsy scars are discreet’, thought Nick.

“…but I can give you a little more information. Gil and I have discussed this and I am telling you this because you are his parents and deserve to know all that we know – even though it may be unpalatable at the moment it may give you a little relief in the years to come.” Doc Robbins paused and seemed to steady himself.

‘What’s this about?’ a puzzled Nick moved closer to the Doc and Gris.

“While investigating the injury to Nick’s brain I noticed an area with a very small mass of what looked to me to be abnormal cells. It led me to check Nick’s liver where I found several similar small masses. I have a friend who works in the labs at the Desert Palm Hospital and he very kindly rushed through an analysis of the samples of those masses for me.” He paused again before getting a new wind to continue.

“Nick had cancer, a very virulent brain cancer that although in its very early stages - in his brain - had already metastasised…er…spread…to his liver, as this specific cancer usually does. There are no permanent treatments for this cancer – it sometimes responds to ‘management’ therapies like radiotherapy and chemotherapy and drug regimes, but they are not a cure, they’d hold it at bay awhile. Nick would have died within, probably twelve months, eighteen maybe.”

‘Dizzy. I was dizzy and I had that headache on and off for a couple of days…well, well, well. Hey, I was dizzy when it happened, that’s what I felt as I turned around to look at the ’copter.’ Nick was contemplating his fate – it was over too soon but it had been quick and completely painless. He should be thankful….

“We should be thankful I suppose…” his Daddy was saying, “…he died suddenly without prior knowledge and if I believe you, without pain, but he had a slow painful death awaiting him otherwise. The Lord does work in mysterious ways.”

That was his Daddy’s favourite line. His Momma was nearly collapsed against his Daddy; he wished he could help her.

“I want to see him, Bill, my baby, I want to see….”

Doc Robbins and Gil ushered them into a side room used for relatives and friends to view the deceased persons away from the clinical aspect of the morgue itself. Nick was behind the little party. He was a bit wary of this.

Gil moved the sheet down to expose Nick’s head and shoulders – the tops of the ‘y’ cut could be seen but they were very neatly sewn – much more neatly than normal – and there was no sign of the injury or incisions on his head.

‘Good job Doc, I don’t look half bad.’

His Momma had become quite composed, “Such a good boy, a sweet boy, so lovely…he always was, you know…no trouble and so handsome when he grew up. The girls used to line up outside and the other boys wanted to be his friends because he attracted all the girls and they hoped to hang around for his rejects. But all my little Nicky wanted to do was go bird watching…and you remember Bill how ya’all used to play him up and say it was only so he could get the girls alone…and he’d be embarrassed and…and…..”

The composure left her and Gil helped Judge Stokes move her to a chair at the side. Doc Robbins started to pull the sheet up but the Judge stopped him. ‘Please, a few minutes alone, please?”

“Of course, we’ll be right outside.” And Gil, Dr Robbins and Nick left the room.

Nick had no wish to – one - intrude on his parents’ anguish when he couldn’t do anything about it and – two - listen to any more stories about his bird watching. Did they really not know, even after all this time, that his self built hide was, in fact, where he very successfully lost his virginity...on more than one occasion, if he remembered correctly. That his brother kept him in condom supplies because he’d had some juicy blackmail material on him. Seems he was a sweet boy though…that’s exactly what the girls had said!

“Oh my God, where am I…..” Nick was in dark, smelly, wooden structure. He looked around and was stunned. It was his hide! He was in the very place he’d been thinking about – the site of his many conquests. He’d been thinking about it and ‘Hey Presto’, here he was. He’d have to be careful what he thought or he could end up in some strange places – but this was a place of some very happy memories after all – even if it had seen better days.

Gil was perplexed. With himself. Ten or twelve hours previously he’d been as emotionally devastated as he’d ever been in his life. He was now rationalising that it was the shock of seeing it happen before his eyes and their inability at the scene to prevent it. Just a culmination of events that had caused his utter breakdown at his house. But then he’d had a wonderful sleep, dreamed happy dreams (that, in itself, was odd for him) and now there was this feeling of ‘closeness’ – he had no idea what he was ‘close’ to but that was what it felt like.

Returning to the lab to meet the Stokes’ and see the rest of the team should have made the drive in uneasy for Gil, and yet it had all been fine. He was composed, didn’t feel tired - he actually felt really good and then he felt guilty for feeling okay after what had happened. This was all out character; he thought he knew himself and his conditioned responses to any given scenario; but all of this had left him, somehow, off kilter, but feeling like he’d had a vacation, a good vacation.

He’d seen Al first and he’d had the cancer confirmed. They’d decided that they would tell the Stokes’ about it and then the team after the dust settled. He’d seen Warrick and Catherine to see how they were and picked up a real undercurrent with them. It must have been on maximum voltage for Gil to actually realise there was something going on, as Catherine herself liked to point out, he was emotionally detached…from the rest of humanity.

He’d spoken to the Judge and his wife about Nick and his work and life in Las Vegas – not that he actually knew much about Nick out of work – but sufficient for them to get the drift. Warrick could fill in the blanks. But he’d been happy to discuss Nick and did so, not jauntily, (he didn’t do ‘jauntily’) but in a relaxed manner that he was bemused about, even as he sat in his office talking.

Once the body had been viewed the morticians moved in – Al was letting them use his morgue for them to prepare Nick for transportation by air back to Texas. Certain rules had to be adhered to regarding the movement of a casket and body, by air and interstate.

Judge and Mrs Stokes had come to Gil’s office and the team had talked to them about the Nick that they knew. It seemed to please both the grieving parents and even in Gil’s euphoric state he could see that they were taking some solace from it. They then left to spend the night at the Bellagio. Nick would leave in the morning at eight to begin his final journey. The team decided to stay and work, no one wanted to go home alone, but Ecklie confined them to the lab. They all had cases and paperwork to catch up on.

Catherine managed to find Gil alone a few hours later and came into his office and closed the door behind her…always an ominous sign. “What’s got into you Gil, Christ, you’re a cold bastard at the best of times but you surely surpassed yourself today?”

Gil was stunned at the ferocity of her verbal attack on him. “I don’t know what you mean Catherine; I was with Nick all the time yesterday and you approved of that so what’s changed now?”

“You’ve just been ‘normal Gil’ and ordinary since you came in, you were shocked yesterday and yes, you did some things very few people could have done, yesterday, and I thought it was wonderful, now I just think you did because you could, because you weren’t particularly bothered.”

“How dare you, Catherine!” Gil jumped to his feet and was more furious than he could remember being for a long time. He saw the startled look on Catherine’s face.

“I saw the guy die – just like you did - but I stayed with him…held his body in the helicopter, undressed him and helped with his autopsy, I told a father his son was dead and then held Nick’s hand and promised him his father was coming for him while you were…what Catherine…moping around with Warrick.”

Catherine was stunned, if she thought the emotionless Gil was strange this impassioned man was beyond recognition.

“You have the gall to accuse me of not caring Catherine, when it appears to me that I was the only one who actually cared enough yesterday to do anything for the guy – what did you do Catherine, exactly? What?” He gasped for breath and continued.

“I am constantly accused, most often by you; of being the cold hearted, emotionless bastard, but I get things done, Catherine, I get things done. Because I then behave in a professional manner with his parents, not gushing and adding to their anguish you’re at it again, the ‘emotionless bastard’ card, well do you want to know something Catherine, do you? I’m not taking it from you, not now, and not again. Do I make myself clear? Do I?”

She nodded, unable to utter even a sound.

“Well get back to Warrick and go warm his bed….” Well I never, I accidentally hit on the truth there, he thought maliciously. “…..I have better things to do.” He promptly sat back down at his desk and grabbed a file, dismissing her without even a look.

He heard her leave and noticed his hands were shaking. He didn’t dare look up, he wasn’t frightened of her (much) but he’d certainly never spoken to her, or anyone that he could think of, like that before. Not even Ecklie at the height of ‘the animosities’. But he did have to question himself, where had the anger come from, was it somehow related to Nick’s death and his breakdown and now his euphoric mood? Was he having a breakdown? A proper one.

“That was spectacular, Gris.” Nick had transported himself to Gil’s office and arrived at the same time as Catherine had. “You really gave her what she needed, I know what you did man and you were the only guy who could’ve done it, so kudos man, how did you know about her and ‘Rick though?”

Gil sat back in his chair and looked into the office…he was now absolutely convinced Catherine was right. There was something wrong with him…he was having a breakdown, a real one, the nervous type. He was absolutely certain that he‘d heard Nick talking, quietly and sort of far away, but unmistakably Nick Stokes. Talking to him about his shouting at Catherine.

Gil picked up his telephone and called Ecklie. “Conrad. Gil. Look I have to go home. I’m not very well. Errrr…strain, I think, of the last day. I’ll come back for Nick…for Nick’s leaving. Is that okay?”

Ecklie was quite normal with him “No problem Gil, only to be expected, even from a guy like you.”

Don’t you start. “Thanks Conrad.” And he was gone, didn’t take any papers, didn’t lock up and didn’t even turn out his lights. His car keys in his hand he rushed out to his truck, and was gone.

Nick was stunned, more so than at any event since his demise. He knew that Gil had seen or heard him or maybe both. He knew that Gil would be staggered; this was a deeply rational mind we were talking about and supernatural events probably didn’t rate very highly in his intellectual pecking order. But he didn’t care because he thought things were about to get a whole lot more interesting - for him at least. He then thought he’d better follow Gil or he’d take ages to ‘teleport’, was that a better word than ‘materialise’. He’d have to develop an appropriate vocabulary to accommodate his new status.

Nick just managed to leap into the back seat of the truck as Gris sped off. Nick thought he’d keep a low profile on the journey; he didn’t want to die again and certainly didn’t want to be responsible for frightening Gris to death. There was a thought; would Gris be frightened, he’d never seen any sign of nerves in Gris before, except for tonight after he’d dissed Catherine.

As the journey to, Nick supposed (hoped), Gris’ townhouse proceeded Gris calmed down, he slowed the truck, driving more considerately for the ghostly passenger. Without a shiver of fright or disgust it actually reminded him of the night he’d been abducted and was in Gordon’s trunk. Crouched down behind the seat he did feel a bit foolish, he was a ghost after all, but he decided to play it safe.

At the townhouse Nick waited for Gris to open up and then lock his front door. Nick gained access in his usual way; he was very blasé about walking through things now. Gil shrugged himself out of his jacket and threw it at a chair and headed for a cupboard. It was to retrieve a bottle of scotch and a tumbler. He poured himself a good measure and downed it in one gulp and then gasped and screwed his eyes up at the burn as it went down his oesophagus and into his stomach – he felt the liquid’s entire journey.

Nick didn’t want Gris drunk; he didn’t want to be dismissed as a drunken hallucination. He wanted Gris to see and hear him and accept him. This was what he wanted more than anything.

“Can you hear me Gris?”

“Oh, yes you can!” Nick answered his own question as he saw Gil Grissom’s body go rigid as he leaned against the cupboard where he kept his drink.

“Please don’t drink anymore. I want to talk to you - you’re the only one who knows there’s something going on Gris. Gris? I died, I know I did, out in the foothills, but when you called my name I kind of came back – I think I’m a ghost Gris. Can you see me?”

Gil turned around very slowly, unable to stop himself but convinced he was descending into some sort of psychotic episode. As he’d heard the voice behind him, it’d started out quietly like he’d heard it in his office but as the voice spoke more it gradually increased in volume and as it had asked if Gil could see it – it was a normal, if somewhat quiet, voice – but most definitely it was the voice of Nick Stokes.

When he’d fully turned around Gil lifted his eyes, which had been firmly directed down towards the floor, and looked at……Nick Stokes. His mouth dropped open and he became light headed but he had the cupboard to support him. It wasn’t the actual sight of Nick Stokes that so startled him per se…it was the fact that it was Nick Stokes and he was…translucent…like a ghost was supposed to be; he supposed.

“For god’s sake Grissom pull yourself together, you’re a scientist, not a mad man!” Gil admonished himself aloud.

“Gris don’t, I’m real, I really am, well real like a ghost I suppose. Look, I sort of arrived here after going to the morgue – I was with you when you were so upset and then I went away and came back and…and I was in the closet Gris…you know, moving the clothes – man that took so much effort, but you saw me then didn’t you…and then before you kept looking around and couldn’t quite see me…I was here…I’m here now; please believe me, Gris…it’s lonely being a ghost.”

Nick knew he was babbling on and whining but he wanted to convince Gris – he wanted to talk and be normal……

“A ghost.” Was what Gris said.

“Yep…how can I convince you?”

“I have no idea. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Nor me. Well I didn’t. Got proof now, incontrovertible evidence.”

“Evidence would be good.”

“I can tell you anything you want to know.”

“But if you are a figment of my delusional imagination, I’ll know all the answers to the questions that I have. If I don’t know the answer I won’t ask the question. And if you tell me something I don’t know I have nothing to measure it against.”

“Wow, you never could resist a lecture could you, regardless of the circumstances?”

“It’s my nature.”

“Then what you’re saying is there’s no way I can convince you that I am real?”

“But you’re not real, you’re a ghost, and the very nature of that means…you’re not real.”

“Do you accept that I am a ghost then?” Nick was hopeful.

“I think you may be a figment of my imagination…but that you think you’re real because I’ve created you to think that.”

“Oh, man, I can’t win. What have I got to do? I can do tricks – I can walk through walls, move clothes in a closet, I’ve been back to Texas, twice, even that hide my Momma was talking about.”

“Your parents? You saw your parents?”

“Yeah…back in Texas at the ranch when they’d all heard about me; that was weird. Then when you took them to see me in the morgue. I thought I looked pretty good you should thank the Doc. Hey…what about the cancer…I was dizzy, Gris. Just before I fell over and I had this funny niggling headache for two or three days - not bad but not going away…would that have been the start of it…d’ya think?”

“Were you there for the autopsy?”

“Noooo…that was too gross, that’s when I went to Texas the first time.”

“But I knew about the symptoms you could have had so that’s not evidence because I could have planted the memory.”

“Oh Gris, this is annoying.”

“What about the hide and the bird watching?”

“That was plain embarrassing about my Momma saying how sweet I was and not wanting to go out with girls an’ all, when my brother was providing the condoms ‘cause I was blackmailing him and I was laying into the girls like a buck in a field of bunnies. All in the hide!”

Gil was startled, he didn’t know this and he could verify it with his brother. Could he call his brother and just ask, ‘…did Nick blackmail you and did you provide condoms so he could…well, fuck around…like the sound of it?’

“What Gris, what?”

“I didn’t know that and your brother could verify it.”

“You can…yes you can…come on, the number is…what now?”

“I can’t call your brother and say, ’oh, by the way your brother’s come back from the dead so can you just tell me about when he was blackmailing you.’ Now can I?”

“It would be a difficult conversation, I guess.”

“I’m having a conversation about verifying the existence of a ghost – with a ghost. This IS surreal.”

“How d’ya think I feel, Gris? I’m just dead and I find out I was dying anyway. I’m a ghost but I’ve not seen any other ghost or…you know…anything. I can teleport around the country and I can speak to my boss, well, ex-boss.”

“Teleport?”

“Yeah…what’s wrong with that…I made it up……”

Gil laughed. This was quite the oddest, strangest most peculiar thing that had ever, ever, happened to him. He had no idea why, but he believed this thing in front of him was really the ghost of Nick Stokes. He really did.

“You believe?”

“I do.”

“That’s great man!” Nick went over to Gris and intended to give him a manly hug, but Gris shrank back from him. “Sorry, too much too soon?”

“Something like that – can I touch you? You seem to be growing more solid as we speak – you look nearly normal.”

“Thanks.”

“No; I mean I’ve never seen a ghost before and I don’t suppose you have, so we’ve got no terms of reference have we?”

“That’s true, you do like things to be ‘just so’ – but you’ll have to accept that we’re flying by the seat of our pants here.”

“Perhaps I could do an article on it for a journal.”

“‘Ghosts indigenous to Nevada’, could be a working title.”

“Or even ’Teleporting Today’. I could present a paper at the Star Trek convention!”

“Ha, ha, that’s just not funny.” Nick was attempting petulance but in reality, in his reality, he was as amazed and as happy as he could be. He had never encountered this Gil Grissom in his life and now in his death he was with a warm and witty man – who’d just seen a ghost. He shouldn’t be so accepting and ‘normal’ about it even if that was what Nick had wanted.

Gil looked suddenly serious. “Are you really…dead, are you really a ghost?”

Take back what you just thought. “I am Gris. The strangest thing for me is the sort of emotionless feel to it. I saw me dead. I saw you and my family and especially my Momma all distraught about my death and I felt very little reaction. I’m a fucking ghost Gris – shouldn’t I freak out just a little bit d’ya think?”

“Mmm, maybe. May I have another drink now?”

“Yeah…but don’t get drunk; you should have seen Sara throwing back the tequila in her condo.”

“You visited with Sara?” Gris seemed surprised.

“Yeah, and Catherine - that’s how I knew about them - I caught them…..”

“In flagrante…?”

“Exactly…how did you know?”

“Don’t know, I just sensed an undercurrent between them that I’d never noticed before.”

“You don’t do ‘undercurrents’ Gris.”

“I know.”

“Can I touch you now? A handshake?”

“Good idea.” Gil extended his hand and Nick put his, what now appeared solid, hand in to it. Gil gasped at the sensation. Nick’s hand looked absolutely normal, humanly normal, but the actual feel of a warm hand in his was overtaken by a rush of warmth through his body. He could hardly describe it – like a warm electric shock without the ‘electric’ and the ‘shock’ parts.

Nick smiled his widest smile at Gil and Gil felt a surge of calmness and not exactly happiness but…contentedness throughout his body. This was the same sensation he’d felt when he’d woken up but multiplied.

“You feel that feeling too, don’t you Gris?”

Gil could only nod.

“I think it’s to make up for the fact that I am actually dead and you should be terrified out of your wits.”

“It works, believe me.”

“And for me, I think I should be freaked out at what has happened to me, but I’m not. But I must say Gris, it was you who I sought out, I followed you from the scene, and have come back to you each time. I don’t know why ’cause like my best buddy is ‘Rick, well ‘was’ ‘Rick. And I’m close to my family.” He was still holding hands with Gris, but it felt good, like it was grounding him, if that was possible for a ghost.

Gil looked down at their joined hands. He felt completely at ease…with a ghost. He did believe Nick, but he was still incredulous about it, there was still a niggling worry at the back of his mind that this was a psychotic episode of some sort.

“I can’t read your thoughts Gris, but I have this ‘sense’ that you are still a bit of a doubting Thomas?” He was still smiling.

“Yeah, I was just thinking exactly that, Nick.”

“You called me ‘Nick’, I must be real now.”

“I think so…let me get a drink and sit down…” He let go of the Nick’s hand, “…do you want a drink too?”

“Errrr, I don’t know, I’m not thirsty and haven’t done any eating or drinking since….nor peeing or anything.”

“I didn’t think we had to be thirsty to have a beer?”

“Said like a drinker…go on, I’ll try a beer then.”

Gil poured another scotch for himself, just a small one this time and then retrieved a bottle of ‘Bud’ from his cool box for Nick. “Salut!” He said, and clinked his glass to the bottle that Nick had grasped.

Neither was prepared for what happened and both looked stunned and then caught eye contact and dissolved into hearty laughter.

Nick had put the bottle up to his mouth and taken a swig of the beer that had then instantly poured out of him – like he was a fine sieve. Through his cheeks and chin the mouthful of beer cascaded down the tee he wore. It wasn’t absorbed into the tee and didn’t stain it or make it wet, it just puddled on the floor in front of Nick as if he’d poured the beer directly onto the floor.

“Guess that answers that query then Gris – sorry about your floor man!”

Gil took the bottle from Nick and took it back into the kitchen and returned with some paper towels and a cloth and spray. It was cleaned up in a few seconds.

“No problem at all, we’re on a learning curve here, what did you say about the ‘seat of our pants’, and Nick, will you call me Gil, please?”

“Sure…don’t you like ‘Gris’ then?

“It doesn’t bother me at work at all, but it’s just that, a work name.”

They sat on the couch together, in a companionable silence.

“What next…Gil?”

“Don’t know, we have no set parameters, don’t know if you’ll be here from one moment to the next. You parents are taking your body back to Texas tomorrow. I would imagine the team and maybe a few others will fly out for your funeral – I know I will. But God, that’ll be peculiar to say the least.”

“Tell me about it; you know I can kinda cry easily don’t you, well I’m afraid it’s bit of a family trait, there’ll be wailing aplenty. Mark my words.” Nick looked up and saw ‘Gil’ starting to laugh and trying not too, but it started him off again and they were both laughing out loud.

“Is it…is it…is it……” Nick tried between laughing.

“What?”

“S’posed to be this funny man….?”

“Don’t know, no rules remember.”

“Gris…Gil…come on man I’m relying on you to sort me out, come on…”

“Right. Let’s look at the evidence we have…….”

They talked through everything they knew, from the beginning, and pieced together their combined actions but even Gil couldn’t formulate a plan because there was nothing to go on. The only thing that was a constant was the ‘flying by the seats of their pant’ thing.

Nick decided and Gil agreed that he’d stick by Gil as much as possible and tell Gil if he was going anywhere, if he could, before he ‘teleported’. They hoped that as they gleaned more information about their circumstances they would be able to build up an idea of how this ‘Alternative Lifestyle’ was panning out.

The title had, of course come from Nick – he was very much into ‘buzz’ words and he said he’d spend his time preparing a dossier. They tried out a few things – obviously eating, drinking and bodily functions didn’t seem to be part of the equation, so Nick tried using the computer and found that he could, so Gil proposed that if Nick went anywhere unexpectedly and was away for some time, he’d try and e-mail Gil – but they would need to do a test run because what he wrote might not transmit because…...

……they’d tried using the ‘phones and that was the creepiest thing they’d encountered, because Nick could operate it and speak into it but his voice went nowhere. He’d used Gil’s cell to ‘phone Gil’s land line. The ‘phone rang out and Gil answered but Nick’s voice did not transmit down the line. He could hear Gil though, so it could be a sort of emergency one way thing. Gil said he would get him a cell – but then they’d laughed again when Nick had pointed out he didn’t think it would teleport.

The rest of the night passed very quickly and it was soon time to return to the lab to see Nick’s body off. Nick thought it safer to be with Gil as there would seem less likelihood of him ‘thinking’ himself somewhere else. They were going to experiment with this though because the time element confused Nick. They decided it was just like being a CSI – collecting and examining the evidence, compiling their results and coming up with solutions to their problems.

There was absolutely no doubt that as strange as the situation was – and it was strange there was no escaping that pronouncement – these two men had accepted their predicament and were coping and moving on. It was actually exciting; there was no doubt about that, either.

Of course, it helped that whatever it was that made them feel so contented about the situation could be responsible for their easy ‘acceptance’. Gil hazarded a guess that it was some sort of endorphin rush and said he’d test his blood at the lab when he got a chance to see if there were any physical manifestations he could evaluate.

This sent Nick into paroxysms of laughter yet again and Gil’s raised eyebrows and pretended hurt only made it worse.

“Maybe you’d like a bit of MY blood Gil…you’ve heard the one about ‘blood out of a turnip…..’?

The feeble joke was obviously the funniest thing either man had ever heard… but Gil called a halt. “We’ve got to try and keep calm Nick – I wonder if too much contact between us causes an overload of whatever it is. Catherine noticed; after only a few hours, that I was not my ’normal’ self. If I go in, in a little while, singing and dancing round your casket I guess I could get a few raised eyebrows, a shot of tranquiliser and a stay in the pysch ward!”

Nick was rolling around on the couch now in so much glee at the thought of an all singing all dancing Gil, that he couldn’t speak – he would have said he couldn’t catch his breath – but they’d established earlier that he wasn’t breathing, Nick hadn’t noticed beforehand.. Nor was he ‘crying’ with laughter, but it didn’t matter to Nick – he was still having a good time. It seemed to him that it was better than when he was alive and THAT sobered him instantly.

“What Nick, what’s wrong?” Gil was concerned at the instant cessation of mirth.

“I…. I.… I…can’t tell you Gil…it was a horrible thought.”

“We’ve already established we can tell each other everything; building a dossier, remember?”

So Nick told him and Gil was thoughtful for a little while and realised after only a few minutes that while he still felt fairly contented, his ’high’ had, quite definitely, deflated. This was more information already to add to their collective knowledge - that the more light hearted they became the ‘happier’ they became.

Gil recalled the old adage ‘laughter is the best medicine’ and equated it to their situation inasmuch as laughter made anyone feel better and brighter but their reactions were magnified for some reason. It had to be Nick causing it as had just been amply demonstrated. But Gil was receptive in some way.

They had said it earlier – there were interesting times ahead.

The removal of the casket containing the mortal remains of Nick Stokes had been a solemn affair. Like the staff did on the roof for the arrival of his body, they lined up as the casket was wheeled out with Judge and Mrs Stokes walking behind it.

Everyone seemed a little more composed than they had been; they’d all had time to adjust and maybe cried themselves dry. Gil had remained calm and composed; he now knew it was because Nick, the ghost, had this sort of euphoria inducing power over him. He was relieved with the feeling because he had the distinct impression that Nick’s death had hit him harder than he would ever have imagined. As he watched the casket being wheeled out of the lab he was struck with a terrible sadness that Nick would never be coming back.

Almost immediately he’d had to stop himself from laughing out loud. Nick, the ghost, had been straining over the shoulder of one of the lab rats to see the procession - like a fan desperate to see a celebrity. Gil would have to have stern words with the apparition that was, apparently, Nick Stokes – doing comical manoeuvres in front of Gil when no one else can see what’s happening - was going to severely test Gil, even with his renown for ‘deadpanning’.

The Judge and his wife had thanked Gil and Al particularly for their very kind treatment of their son after his death – they’d appreciated that certain procedures had to be carried out. They had thanked everyone at the lab for the friendship they’d shown Nick during this life. They had known how much Nick had loved his work and his life in Las Vegas – they knew because he always spoke of it when he was with his family. They would miss hearing Nick’s tales about the lab.

They would miss Nick. Every single one of them. Well, maybe there would be one exception.

Gil thought about this as he sat in his office actually finishing up the file regarding Nick’s death. It was straightforward. An accident witnessed by three CSIs. Death was instantaneous – and then the discovery of the cancer. Gil knew, but couldn’t tell anyone about the headache that Nick had or the dizziness that he felt before he fell. What was the strangest thing of all was that while Gil was reviewing and closing down the file, Nick was laying on the couch in his office idly chatting about the (his) funeral ‘procession’

Nick had thought it was really good of his work mates to form that sort of guard of honour and that his Daddy could always be relied upon to come up with an appropriate speech. But what was really bothering Nick was his burial. He’d not long ago realised that he would be interred in a family plot and he was feeling really uneasy about it, being lowered into the ground and then have his body decompose gave him the shivers, well metaphorically speaking, because he couldn’t actually ‘shiver’.

It was clear to Gil that this was a troubling scenario for Nick. But Gil couldn’t quite grasp why. “I don’t understand this Nick, you’re dead, you know it, and you’ve seen your body, known you’ve been autopsied – but you're concerned about being buried when in fact it’s just your body and you’re actually here with me…errrr…as a ghost, I’m having difficulty sorting this out.”

“You and me both, man…but if you’re not careful Gil they’ll be coming to take you away…remember the tranquiliser shot you were talking about…..?”

“Of course, but what……?”

“You’re in your office alone, chatting quite normally to a ghost, Gil. Now I know you can see me and hear me but no one else can and in your fish bowl office it will look as if you’re having a normal conversation with…no one.”

“Good lord, Nick. You’re right, I’d completely overlooked that…it’s a good job one of us in on the ball.” As he spoke this time Gil had looked down at the papers on his desk and spoken quietly. It was unlikely that he’d been seen from outside the office now – but he’d have to careful.

“I was trying to think why I didn’t want to buried Gil…it’s Walter Gordon…I nearly died in that grave you know. I was moments away from pulling the trigger when Warrick scraped that dirt away and saw me.”

Gil had looked up sharply at the mention of Gordon – he’d forgotten, how could he have done that, about the abduction. Nick had had so many near misses. Ecklie had said that.

“Holy ‘last will and testament’ Gil…my will, I stipulated that I wanted to be cremated,. You’ve got to get it to Daddy, let him know. I didn’t say anything to them…..I didn’t think they’d outlive me!”

“Right; where is your will?”

“There’s a copy at my condo and the attorney’ll have the original.”

Gil spent time contacting the attorney - telling him about Nick’s death, but he’d heard anyway and was waiting for instructions. So Gil directed him to Judge Stokes but made it clear that Nick’s instructions had been for cremation not burial. He promised he’d do it. Sounded very friendly to Gil but, of course, whatever he did was chargeable.

Nick was relieved at this, but then became agitated at the thought of being burned to death. But, as Gil pointed out you had to be alive to be burned to death. This had started one of their laughing fits, made much worse by Gil’s attempts not to laugh and this had caused Nick even more mirth as he tried as hard as he could to make Gil crack. One word from Gil had calmed Nick down.

“Tranquiliser.”

Luckily, everyone was giving Gil a wide berth. His shouting at Catherine had been heard around the lab and that had given more gossip fodder for the lab rats, who, like real rodents thrived on the detritus around them – it was the gossip that kept them well fed.

The funeral was arranged for a week later. It was a long wait to give the Stokes clan time to congregate in Texas.

The team would go…Gil, Catherine, Warrick, Sara and Greg…oh, and Nick too! He’d made several teleports back to Texas but there were so many people and so much misery he couldn’t cope. As a ghost he was discovering that he was fine on a one to one basis with Gil but a crowd, especially one emitting angst by the bucket load, caused him to dissipate somehow. He was even considering remaining in Vegas for his funeral but that information had caused Gil, and then Nick, to break into one of their regular paroxysms of laughter.

Gil did not know how he coped at work. Everyone around him was cheerless and here was the normally taciturn man having to consciously not laugh out loud when mention was made of Nick.

There had been a long discussion between the two men about why only Gil could see him. Nick spent most of his time in the lab going around all the staff and while he wasn’t trying as hard as he did with Gil he was trying to elicit some response from his former colleagues.

Nothing.

He’d spent hours at Warrick’s place with Warrick and it was like he didn’t exist…then he’d laughed so much he’d had to go back to Gil’s and share the quip.

Gil was not in the least perturbed by Nick being with him most of the time - he enjoyed the time they spent together – although he spent a lot of time in bed trying to sleep while his brain wouldn’t let him forget that he now appeared to be really good friends with a ghost. It was like the most natural thing in the world and the most unnatural. Why did a normally solitary man suddenly find that he could live with someone all the time and not be perturbed?

But mostly he accepted it and the wonderfully euphoric feeling that he had whenever Nick was close by. He just hoped he hid it well enough from the others. They’d avoided him a fair bit since his argument with Catherine and he’d deliberately not gone out to crime scenes with any of them.

The day before the funeral the team arrived at McCarran to fly to Dallas. Gil was the last to arrive and stood with the others while they waited to check in; Nick had accompanied Gil, as usual, and stood with him in the queue listening to their conversation and giving Gil the benefit of his wisdom on several points.

The couple standing right behind Gil and Nick had a dog - a beautiful Golden Retriever. The dog was growling at Nick. Not a loud ferocious growl but a low grade warning growl. The owners were perplexed at their dog for growling into space and Gil had a very difficult time trying not to laugh as Nick spoke to the dog.

“There’s a good boy. See me do you, you gorgeous boy?”

But then even Nick overstepped the mark. He reached out and tickled the dog’s ear and the dog went bananas. He growled ferociously enough now and leapt up towards Nick (nothing) nearly pulling the owner over and was barking furiously at…nothing. Nick had very smartly moved away and the owner dragged the dog away altogether and tried to calm it down.

“Not just you then Gil…you and dogs. I thought it was going to bite me, d’you reckon it’d hurt?”

It took a superhuman effort for Gil to remain stony faced and impartial with the cheeky Nick speaking to him. Most people were discussing the merits of animals flying with their owners. This dog plainly wasn’t a happy flyer.

By this time they’d reached the check-in desk and had been allocated seats. Gil was sitting some way away from most of the others and Nick was most put out not to be able to have seat of his own. He just hoped there would be a spare seat next to Gil. He didn’t think Gil would appreciate Nick sitting on his lap all the way to Dallas. When Nick told Gil this he had to cover his laughter with a coughing fit. He wasn’t absolutely sure he’d pulled it off given the strange looks he’d had from his team.

He made a visit to the men’s room and luckily it was empty at least long enough for him to castigate Nick for his behaviour.

“I’m going to your funeral, for chrissakes. I‘m supposed to be grief stricken and solemn, not the life and soul of the party. Now cut it out unless we’re alone.”

Nick had looked suitably abashed and then started to chuckle and Gil couldn’t help but join in. “STOP IT!” Gil had shouted this just as a guy came into the bathroom; he took a look around and walked right out again. And yet again both men dissolved into laughter.

“I promise I’ll be more restrained, I don’t want you tranquilised, man.” Nick ran his hand up and down Gil’s arm and once again the soothing nature of the contact filled Gil with the familiar warmth, and calmed him down somewhat.

When he rejoined his team he was more suitably morose.

As luck would have it Gil was seated next to Catherine – they’d been maintaining an uneasy truce. She had not apologised, and in truth, Gil wasn’t really expecting her to do so. But the seat on Gil’s other side was empty and Nick made himself comfortable.

“Should I fasten my seat belt do you think?”

Gil, unable to respond verbally, looked at Nick as menacingly as he could. Nick nodded and sat back and at least tried to behave. But….

“Hey, I think I’m going to go into the cockpit and see how they fly these things.’

Gil almost replied, ‘by auto pilot’ but stopped himself just in time and again made a face in Nick’s direction, but was seen by a woman in the aisle seat across from Nick. She gave Gil an equally malevolent look, and Nick very nearly howled in laughter and Gil had to resort to a feigned cough and choking fit.

Catherine, trying to sleep, looked at Gil. “Are you okay? You’ve been coughing and spluttering a lot this last week, have you got a virus?”

“No, I don’t think so, just a tickle in my throat.”

“A tickle, man, a tickle…that’s a lame excuse!”

Since they hadn’t taken off it was impossible for Gil to leave his seat but when he was able to get Nick alone, he was thinking he might murder him and that’s when he really did laugh out loud. Catherine looked at him as though he’d grown another head and the woman on the other side of the aisle gave him a disgusted look.

He groaned in with his laugh…this was going to be one hell of a journey.

“Hey man, this is going to be one hell of a journey!”

“Oh God.” Gil mumbled as Nick spoke aloud what he’d just thought.

“Are you really okay, Gil?”

“Probably not, Catherine, but I will be…shock…I think I’m suffering from delayed shock of some kind.” Gil hoped that this would pacify her; he was just waiting to get his hands on Nicky Stokes. Dead or not, there was going to be some harsh words for the friendly ghost.

Nick, thinking he might be in for a lecture decided to depart for the cockpit.

“I’m going up front to see how they take off…see y’all; hope your shock gets better.” He was gone.

Gil put his head back and closed his eyes as they taxied for take off. He was still smirking to himself. Nick Stokes was dead and he hadn’t had so much fun in years…no, scratch that…ever! Perhaps he was ready to be admitted to a pysch ward.

Nick returned sometime later when both Catherine and Gil had been dozing. Gil awoke and smiled at his dead friend.

“Man. Was THAT boring? The auto pilot really does do everything; they were talking about the merits of the flight attendants. You know that blonde up there…” he indicated a woman along the aisle, “….she’s a lesbian and married to a guy who’s also a flight attendant and he’s gay…a marriage of convenience they say, but man, she’s smokin’.”

Gil raised his eyebrows at the information and smiled at Nick. He seemed so alive and happy and although Gil could feel the now familiar warmth coursing through him that only being with Nick could give him, he was also sad that despite the fun and laughter, Nick was dead. He was on his way to his fucking funeral. And, just how long would this ghost stay with him? Was he really a ghost, or was he undergoing some sort of psychotic break? Was he losing his mind? Well if he was he felt happy about it.

Nick must have sensed a mood change in Gil and looked at him frowning, slightly, as he took in Gil’s pensive look. He didn’t speak, but cleared the frown from his face and put his hand over Gil’s hand and interlinked their fingers.

Gil closed his eyes at the almost overwhelming sensation of peace and relaxation that overtook him. He was asleep within moments.

Nick remained seated and holding Gil's hand for the remainder of the flight. He was worried, or concerned anyway, about the funeral. He couldn’t actually feel the hurt of his family, but he didn’t want his Momma, in particular, to have to bury her son. Her baby.

They were going to have his body cremated and then inter the ashes in the family grave. Nick was not happy about being burned or buried. He knew he was dead, but he would rather remain in a morgue’s cold store somewhere.

But that wasn’t going to be.

Not long after he’d settled down to comfort Gil they were landing in Dallas. Time behaved differently for ghosts, observed Nick yet again, he must make notes for their dossier. The team had hired a seven seater vehicle to drive to their hotel, the closest to the Stokes ranch. They were all invited to a gathering at the ranch that evening. Food would be served buffet style and all Nick’s family and their closest friends would be there.

In the mini van Gil sat in the back alone so that Nick could be seated next to him. To Gil, Nick seemed more subdued than he’d ever seen him…as a ghost anyway.

Gil guessed, correctly, that Nick had the funeral on his mind. When they eventually got into ‘their’ hotel room, Nick was quiet.

“The funeral?” Gil asked.

“Yeah…man…what if I disappear? You know…die...properly?”

“I don’t know, Nicky. We’re flying by the seat of our pants remember? I would miss you.”

“You would?” Nick perked up at that statement.

“Of course I would …I…we’ve had some fun this last week, don’t you think? I’m still not one hundred percent sure you’re not a figment of my imagination, though.”

“Man…I thought I’d convinced you.”

“I saw you die. And yet here you are as alive…more alive really…than I ever knew you when you were alive…does that make sense?”

“Yeah, kind of. We didn’t hang out much did we? I mean, I spent more time with Warrick and Greggo, and even Archie…and yet it was you who stopped me ‘going’ in the foothills. It was you I heard say, ‘Nick, Nick’, and I stayed with you. I wonder why? I wonder why I haven’t seen anyone else, or…you know…seen if there’s a heaven and hell.”

“If you don’t know the answers to those questions, I’m sure I don’t.”

“No. You know I’m not as happy as I was…I seem to have calmed down. I wonder if it’s being back here and the…you know…the funeral.”

“Very possibly. I must say I still feel a kind of ‘warmth’ when you’re close, but the highs that I was experiencing seem to have levelled out. It could be as simple as becoming used to the situation. It was all so new but now I…we, know what it feels like.”

“Yeah. I am dreading the funeral…no, being cremated, I think I’m frightened. But not…really frightened. It’s weird.”

“I can only imagine…and I can’t really do that.” Gil heaved a big sigh before continuing. “I’m going to shower and get ready for tonight.”

“Hey, that’s another thing - can you smell me?”

“No…not at all.”

“It’s just that I haven’t showered; I know I don’t do bodily functions, but a hot shower used to feel good.”

“Yes…but remember the beer. I think if you were to shower the water would just run in and out of you. Do you want to try?”

“Go on then. It’ll be an experiment for the dossier. I've never even taken these clothes off; but they feel the same as me, ectoplasmic.” He chuckled.

And so did Gil as Nick attempted to take his shirt off. The material merged with Nick as he tried to pull it over his head, his head pushed through the fabric, which was then inside his head.

Gil’s chuckling turned to laughter and Nick’s feigned indignation at his predicament, had them both consumed with laughter as they had been before. So the fun hadn’t gone away, it had been temporarily subdued by the circumstances.

“Nick, Nicky, if you really want to shower, do it with your clothes on; they are obviously part and parcel of you, so will wash in the same fashion you will…however that will be.”

“Good thinking, Dr Grissom.”

So that’s what he did and as predicted the water cascaded over and through Nick, but he liked the sensation, it was like when he walked though walls. He undoubtedly felt better when he’d given himself a thorough dowsing. He couldn’t use the soap and he couldn’t dry with a towel, because that went in and out of him, like his clothes, but he drained off very quickly.

“I feel like a new ghost.”

“I’m pleased for you. Now move out and let me shower.”

“Okay. Don’t forget to clean those pesky little places.”

“Right, I will; where exactly are those ‘pesky little places’?”

“No idea, I spent a lot of time trying to figure that out when I was a kid because I cleaned everywhere and couldn’t think of anywhere I didn’t clean. But still Momma used to say it when she bathed me.”

“I bet she meant your dick.”

“Yeah, I bet she did. So don’t you forget to wash yours.” They laughed again.

“I’ll try not to.”

Both man and ghost felt better for their exchange. Gil dressed smartly for the gathering at the ranch, wearing a suit and tie. Nick had chosen the tie for him before they’d left Vegas.

However, the ride to the ranch was a sombre affaire with the rest of the team dreading the event. As he sat in his seat watching the buildings give way to greener gardens and bigger houses Gil ruminated on the fact that all of them had worked graveyard for a long time; could it be that they were less used to the social ‘niceties’ in life because a lot of it just passed them by during the night.

When they arrived at the ranch, all of them were taken aback at the size of the house and the surrounding grounds. There was a paddock, with half a dozen horses roaming around it, in front of the house, meaning that their driveway was about half a mile long.

The white house was imposing, part brick and part timbered, a front porch extended for the width of the house, with comfortable furniture and a swing seat dotted along the boards.

The front door was open as Greg parked their car among the many that were already there. As they made their way to the door, as a team, Judge and Mrs Stokes came out to greet them.

Gil was shocked that both of them seemed to have aged in the week following their son’s death. He guessed they were both well into their seventies, but before had looked younger, now they looked every one of their years. Gil felt a momentary pang of guilt. He could tell them that their son was with him and happy. Even as he thought it he knew that he would never tell anyone unless they could ‘see’ Nick as well, and he followed that thought up with the vague unease of being not quite certain that Nick the ghost ‘existed’, in anything other than his own mind.

He remembered the dog at the airport though…the dog knew there was something…‘there’ and although it hadn’t crossed Gil's mind at the time it was some sort of corroborating evidence of Nick’s ‘existence’. He tried to keep a straight face as he thought this, now was not the time to smile or chuckle.

Nick was suddenly beside him speaking to him. “You just thought something good, I could feel it…do you know I think I’m picking up on your thoughts…I mean not what you’re exactly thinking but whether that thought is good or bad, funny or sad.”

Ignoring Nick he extended his hand to Judge Stokes.

“Judge…Mrs Stokes, how are you both?”

“Bearing up, Dr Grissom, bearing up. We shouldn’t be burying Nick tomorrow…but we are taking some comfort from the fact that he died quickly and he might have suffered a lot more had he lived to…die. Ironic isn’t it? But, we both wish we’d had the time to say goodbye, and tell him just how much he was loved, not just by us but by all his sisters and his brother and his nieces and nephews. He was the perfect Uncle you know.”

“There is no explanation for how things happen; Nick would understand the irony, since he dealt with death and its consequences all the time. We all miss him a great deal.” Gil felt deceitful telling these grieving parents how much he missed Nick when Nick was standing looking at his parents from the side of the porch.

They made their way into the house and were introduced to a family of seeming clones. All the sisters were alike and Daniel, Nick's brother was an exact copy of how an older Nick would have looked. But they were united in grief and it was palpable in the atmosphere.

They were given drinks and introduced to other family and friends of the family and some of Nick’s old school friends. A woman called Ellie was introduced to them and she was very tearful as she told them that Nick was her best friend in the whole world.

As she had said this, Nick had sidled up to Gil and said, “She was the best fuck in the whole world. Not just me but the entire class. And not just the boys, from what I heard!”

Gil kept a straight face, but how he did he would be at a loss to say. Maybe, because the whole house was filled with such misery, he wouldn’t have dared even to smirk.

They were settling into trivial and some not so trivial conversations, mostly about Nick when the unthinkable happened. An old dog, a Labrador, limped into the room.

“Uh–uh.” Nick said at the same time as the dog came to a halt about three feet from Nick.

The dog sat down right in the middle of the floor, and for a moment Gil thought they were okay, but then the dog slung its head back and howled. A howl from the pages of a Conan Doyle book, or a horror film, where werewolves howl in the night, out of sight..

The room stopped still to watch and listen to the terrible sound. Even Nick was rooted to the spot, watching the dog.

“It’s the old family dog, she must be sixteen if she’s a day…Molly.”

At the sound of Nick’s voice the dog’s howl intensified and Gil noticed Mrs Stokes looked stricken and about to cry.

“Oh Bill, she knows, she knows Nicky is dead.”

‘She knows Nicky’s here.’ Thought Gil.

“I’d better go, Gil.” Nick spoke as he made his way through the crowd of morbid people – fascinated by the dog’s antics.

The moment Nick left the room, the dog stopped and slumped down; for a horrible moment Gil thought the dog was dead but then it looked straight at him (and seriously unnerved him) as if to say ‘I know’. This, Gil conceded, was the truth.

The Judge tried to get Molly to leave the living room, but she would not budge. Since she seemed to be a dog used to getting her own, they left her there, in the middle of the room and everyone worked around her. Nick stayed away and Gil wondered where he was. He missed him.

After two and a half hours, all talk of Nick had been exhausted and everyone was flagging, especially Mrs Stokes. This was the eve of her burying her last born and the burden was great. The team said their good byes and walked around the dog for the last time.

In the fresh air, Gil looked up at the stars and breathed deeply. He looked across to the paddock and saw Nick sitting on the fence.

“I’m to going to look at the horses, I’ll only be a moment.”

He sauntered over to where Nick sat and whispered. “Where have you been?”

“Here and there. Molly, what a star, eh?”

Gil felt the warmth again. “She never moved, I think she’s still in the centre of the room. She fixed me with a look, I can tell you, as if she knew…well she did, does.”

“Yeah, weird, the horses haven’t bothered at all.”

“I’d better go back; everyone’s tired and needs to sleep.”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you; teleporting’s taking me ages…”

“Not all it’s cracked up to be then?”

“It’s not that bad, just slow.” Nick grinned.

They all went back to their rooms. They had to leave the next morning at eight thirty, to be at the church for nine o’clock. There was going to be a church service for everyone and then a private cremation. Gil had been asked to attend, but none of the others.

Then it was back to the ranch for the wake.

The team would leave in the late afternoon to return to Vegas and at six thirty in the evening the family would be present when Nick’s ashes were interred in the family’s plot at the local cemetery.

As Gil got ready for bed, Nick sat on the side of the bed and once more seemed much more subdued.

“Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me.”

“What’s going to happen tomorrow? That’s rhetorical, I know you don’t know any more than I do…it’s just that when I’m cremated and my…mortal remains become ashes, what if…what if I go, as if I’m only hanging on while I have an actual body. I just wish I knew. I think I’d better say my goodbyes now, you know, just in case?”

“Mmmm.” Gil was suddenly choked up. How on earth could he have become so attached to a fucking ghost?

“It’s kinda sad, ain’t it…I mean it might not happen…but you know…no terms of reference an’ all?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Can I hug you, Gil? I mean as much as I can, you know?”

“Of course you can.” Gil was surprised by his ready agreement, he was not a big fan of touching…even ghosts, but somehow he knew it would help Nick and more significantly, himself.

Nick rose from the bed and stood immediately in front of Gil. He smiled and his eyes shone brightly as he looked at Gil.

“Thanks for everything, Gil.”

“You’re welcome, Nicky.”

They were both smiling now and Nick put his arms around Gil’s shoulders and carefully embraced him. He was trying not to put too much pressure on Gil because he knew his form, his ectoplasm, would ‘wobble’, for want of a better word. As he thought that word he chuckled.

“Weird, man”

Gil chuckled back. “Yes, seriously weird.” Gil gently wrapped his arms around Nick’s back. He was suddenly overpowered with the most incredible warmth…it wasn’t physical warmth, per se, it was a feeling of inner warmth, perhaps a feeling of incredible wellbeing best described it, but whatever, it was a wonderful feeling and it made him grasp Nick a little harder, without realising.

To his astonishment, Nick’s form felt solid and…normal. Nick must have felt it too, because he pulled away, just a little, and smiled at Gil.

“Hey, I must be getting better at holding me…myself, together.”

“It would seem that way.”

“Feels good, having a bit of contact, you know.”

“Yes it does.”

“Gil, if tomorrow is my last day an’ all, then I’d like to thank you for being with me this last week and being my friend.”

“Nicky…if you do go tomorrow I will miss you very much…I think it’ll be like losing you all over again, I don’t know how I’ll be able to cope…it’ll be awful….” Gil’s voice petered out, he didn’t know where his outburst had come from, but he knew he had tears running down his cheeks and Nick’s image was blurred before him. His throat burned.

“Oh Nicky, I hope you can stay. I really do.” He chuckled and then spoke again. “God knows where all this has just come from, I‘m not known for having emotional outbursts…this might be my first.”

“I like that you’re emo, man, over me. I wanted to be like you, having the smarts to do the job like you…but I always wanted you to like me, Gil, like you like Warrick. I guess I was jealous in those early days, you know. But this makes up for it big time doesn’t it? Like I’m your personal ghost.”

“Oh Jesus, Nicky, I always liked you…I always liked you the best…it’s just that I couldn’t show it, I just couldn’t.

“That’s okay man, hey, it’s no matter now; water under the bridge and everything.”

“It does matter; I shouldn’t have behaved so badly towards you…but…but…”

“It’s okay Gil, really it’s okay.”

Gil hugged Nick to him again but it was a little too tightly and Nick became less solid. Gil pulled back and smiled at Nick.

“I hope to a God I don’t believe in, that you will stay a while longer.”

“Me too. I mean I think I do believe in something, but I’d like to stay if you don’t mind having me.”

“I don’t mind; I love having you here with me.”

Nick laughed. “You say that now, but if I do stick around then you might get pissed with me…you know, like back in the lab.”

Gil thought Nick was joking, he hoped he was. He looked like he was.

“At the moment Nick, we’re going to have to take one day at a time…get over tomorrow and then see what happens. I must say that if anything you seem stronger and more solid than you’ve ever been; like you’re more…normal…I suppose.”

“That’s good then, I do feel more confident as I learn what I can and can’t do. Do you mind if I stay here with you tonight, I don’t want to go drifting off somewhere. Could be my last night and I’d like to just stay put.”

“I’d like that…but I’m going to need to sleep, I seriously need some shut eye.”

“Well I can lie on the bed next to you - I know I make you sleep well - if that’s okay?”

“That would be good.”

So that’s what they did. Gil slept under the blankets, a deep and happy sleep with some good dreams. Nick lay next to Gil and thought about his work with Gil…making sure to focus on Gil otherwise he could end up back in Vegas at an old crime scene or in the lab…that had happened a number of times. But when he was sure Gil was asleep, he turned on his side and stroked Gil’s hair and gently rubbed his back, through the bedclothes.

If this was their last night together then he wanted Gil to have a good night’s sleep and feel good for the funeral. Even as he was thinking these thought, the alarm sounded and it was time for Gil to get up. Nick thought, yet again, that the time…differential…was extremely peculiar. Gil had been asleep for over seven hours and had Nick equated the night in human terms, he’d have said it was thirty minutes max….

Gil ate a little breakfast in his room, he wouldn’t have had any if Nick had not insisted - that facing the day on an empty stomach was not a good idea. So, one juice, two coffees, two croissants and one hour later Gil met up with the team in the foyer of the hotel. All wore sombre clothes and sombre expressions.

Gil wore his best dark grey suit, a white shirt and a silver grey patterned tie. Nick was by his side and he too, had a much more sombre demeanour than he’d had since his death. The ghost of Nick Stokes was seriously worried about his future. It was strange because he hadn’t felt any emotion before last night. His family crying and mourning him had amused, maybe embarrassed, and then bored him.

But the thought that it might well be over very shortly and he would leave Gil Grissom filled him with….. He didn’t actually know what it was, exactly, it could be sadness, or it could be worry. What ‘worried’ him most was the thought of leaving Gil, not where he might go or what might happen…no, it was leaving Gil.

When they’d all piled into their hire vehicle and set off to the church Nick put his hand over Gil’s and smiled at him. He thought he was reassuring himself, but he gathered from Gil's look that Gil needed reassuring too. He guessed it was more difficult for Gil. When all was said and done, he was dead. It was his funeral and whatever else happened, he would never be alive again.

But, could he be a ghost forever? Where was every other ghost or dead person? Was everyone else a ghost too, with just their one person? That couldn’t be the case because he would have heard about it, surely. There was that medium who’d tried to save him from Nigel Crane, all those years ago…Maurice Pearson, he believed in something like this, but one thing was for sure and that was that neither Gil or himself had ever believed in ghosts. So how wrong could a person be? He chuckled.

They were outside the church and everyone was milling around. To the teams astonishment there was a huge contingent from the lab. They had flown in red-eye to attend and would be going straight home again afterwards.

The Doc and Super Dave, Jim and Ecklie. Archie was there with Mandy, Wendy, Hodges, Bobby and Detective Vartann. Gil was momentarily puzzled by Vartann’s presence, but then he guessed that maybe Nick had worked with him more than the other detectives. He didn’t know that they were particularly close, but Alex Vartann was a good guy.

Gil could see Nick wandering around the crowd from the lab, obviously happy that they’d all come to pay their respects. Gil saw him stop by Vartann and put a hand up to touch his cheek, but then he stopped and shook his head. There was no denying Gil was puzzled…at Vartann’s presence and now that gesture, which was…intimate, yes, it was intimate.

The funeral procession arrived at the church. The hearse followed by cars with all the family. They all stood and watched as his family got out of the cars…all the Stokes’ clones, all already in tears, apart from Judge and Mrs Stokes. Nick had warned Gil that the family cried ‘en masse’.

The family followed Nick’s casket into the church and then the mourners filed in behind them. In no time at all the church pews were full and people were standing in the sides and at the back of the church before the doors were closed and the service got underway.

It was fairly standard, hymns, bible readings and then personal memories. Two of his sisters managed to tell the congregation what an irritating little boy Nick was. Spying on boyfriends, snitching to Momma when he saw them kiss a boy. Putting frogs in their beds. Spiking their non alcoholic punch at a party with Daddy’s vodka - he was grounded for two months for that. But all in all they thought that they deserved it because when he was a baby he was their doll, to be played with, fed and watered and pushed around in his pram. He was a million times better than Carrie Barford’s crying, peeing doll…because little Nicky was real. But he wasn’t real any more……

There were no dry eyes in the house and Gil was on next to speak of Nick’s time in Las Vegas. He was dreading it as Nick was looking right at him and smirking; Nick even seemed to have shaken off his earlier worries about his ‘ghosthood’. Gil hadn’t let him see the speech, so Nick was going to enjoy this.

“Nick…Nick Stokes came to Vegas eager to learn and work; a fairly unusual event in and of itself, since most out of towners come to gamble and have fun, not work. But he was fun, he had the rare quality that combined hard work and learning with having fun and enjoying his work at the same time. He was liked…loved, by everyone, his colleagues considered him their dear friend, the lab and police personal always had time for him and would always willingly help him when the need arose. He was kind and interested, he would always have time to spend with someone to listen and support them, if necessary.

“He dealt with some truly dreadful things in the course of his work, but he was kind to the victims, even the dead ones, always respectful and always doing his very best, all the time.

“Nick encountered some serious problems in the course of his work; many of you will not know, because he kept it to himself, never made a big deal out of it…but he was held at gun point by a murderer; he was thrown out of a window by another murderer and that guy also stalked him and very nearly killed him again. But far worse, he was kidnapped and buried underground in a plexiglass…casket for twenty four hours…by the time we found him his oxygen had just about run out. He’d been eaten, very nearly to death, by thousands of fire ants, their venom actually stopped his heart on the way to the hospital.

“Nick never talked about it much, he saw the department therapist, but his best form of defence was to pick himself up and just get on with it…which makes his final accident so much more ironic. A simple twist and trip and he died, instantly, before my eyes, and two of his other colleagues. There are not many more words to say about it except this, and I have his Momma and Daddy’s permission to tell you this.

“When his body was autopsied, our Doc, Al Robbins, found a cancer in Nick’s brain and liver….” There was an audible gasp from the majority of the congregation, who didn’t know this. “What we established was that it was a virulent form of brain cancer that had already metastasised to his liver and a cancer for which there is no known cure and no reprieve. It would have been a certian death sentence for Nick. I know that his parents have taken some solace from this knowledge because his death, however untimely, was quick and painless…I know…I was there.

“So it seems that Nick’s life was destined to be short; it doesn’t really make it any easier for us to bear, but perhaps Nick was spared a painful and lingering death…we’ll never know, but I do know something…..
.
“….we will always miss Nick. I will always miss Nick.”

Gil had remained calm and tear free until near the end of his eulogy and although he didn’t choke up, he had tears flowing freely down his cheeks and he could feel them on his neck soaking into his shirt and see a few had dripped onto his suit. He took out his handkerchief and wiped at his face. He put his notes, which he hadn’t looked at, back in his pocket and returned to his seat. The people who knew him looked at him with something akin to incredulity – Gil Grissom and emotions were strange bedfellows.

Nick came up beside Gil, in his aisle seat, and spoke quietly to him. Gil stared ahead.

“That was wonderful Gil, not too long and not too short, just right. Thank you, Dr Grissom, from the bottom of my…ectoplasmic…heart.” He laughed a little laugh. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

Gil nodded a little to acknowledge the information. He smiled. Nick was still here, perhaps he would stay after all. But there was the cremation and Nick was most worried about that.

Gil had to go to the crematorium in one of the family cars, following the hearse. He was with Nick’s older brother, Daniel. While Daniel wasn’t actually crying at that moment, he had been, and was likely to again at any time. As soon as they were all settled in the car he started a sort of soliloquy about Nick. Everyone listened intently and no one interrupted.

“Nick was a one of a kind, you know? I didn’t have too much to do with him when he was a boy because I’m…I was seventeen years older than him. But when he was a teenager, he was a real outgoing all Texan boy…he was good at school, you know, without even trying, and he was a sports jock…he was good at everything, you really shouldn’t have liked him but you couldn’t help it, he had that smile that creased his face and lit up his eyes. He was spoilt you know, by everyone. Momma and Daddy indulged him like they never did me or the sisters, but now I’m glad they did because if he was going to…go early, then he needed to be spoilt.

“He could be a rogue though, a loveable one. I came back to stay at home for a few months when I was between wives. I’d become engaged to a lovely girl…Marianne…she was a dream. But like every young man, I thought I could have it all and I cheated on her with another girl…Josie. Well Nick found out, saw me with Josie and confronted me, he was angry at first because of Marianne but then relented. So I agreed to give him extra allowance to keep him quiet and provide him with condoms...because he’d just discovered exactly what his pecker was for…he had the girls flocking around him like moths to a light, and he was so nice to them he’d dump them, politely, to move onto the next and still they’d be his friends…now how weird was that?

“Anyway, Marianne dumped me for a doctor and Josie dumped me for a trucker. Took me another five years to find Helen, didn’t it?” He smiled at his wife, who nodded.

Gil had listened with growing interest. This was the final proof…Nick had told him he’d blackmailed his brother into supplying him with condoms. And Daniel had just confirmed it…Nick was indeed a ghost and not a figment of Gil’s imagination. Up until this minute - despite the dogs - he’d harboured a little fear that maybe he was in the middle of some kind of psychotic break, but he wasn’t…Nick was real. Were ghosts real? Last night’s hug seemed to confirm that question. He’d felt Nick as he‘d hugged him. Nick was a real ghost. Even if that appeared to be a contradiction in terms.

The next hurdle was the cremation. Would Nick be with him there, to see what happened, to see if he really did die? They would both have the answer to that particular question in a very short time.

At the crematorium there were only close family and Gil, as far as he could see. He was humbled that the Judge and Mrs Stokes had included him in their most private family grief. Watching your son, brother, being consumed in the furnace was the cruelest of all tortures. If he was honest with himself and he generally was, Gil would have preferred not to be here…even knowing he was in cahoots with the ghost of Nick Stokes did not make this any the more palatable.

And if this was the end of the road for the ghost, Gil would be doubly heartbroken and that thought wrenched at his heart and twisted his gut. Nick was waiting for Gil as everyone filed into the building behind his casket. He then joined Gil and walked beside him. To Gil, he appeared now to be completely human; he’d lost the ghostly aura…the translucent appearance that he had when he’d first…materialised.

The service was brief and all the Stokes were grief stricken...with their various partners and some of their older children trying to hold them all together. The most heart rending moment was when the casket was lowered out of sight to the sounds of the theme music from the TV series, ‘The Cisco Kid’.

Gil was standing at the rear of the chapel type room with Nick beside him. Nick held his hand as Gil let his arm fall by his side, he grasped the hand back and it was more solid than he’d ever felt. When the music started, Nick groaned.

“If you think it’s been bad just you wait…we all used to listen to this as a joke but it just wasn’t so funny for me after Walter Gordon. I mean, I never told Daddy that, you know I didn’t want to spoil his fun.”

Gil looked at Nick who’d resumed his study of his cremation service. Even after his most terrible ordeal at the hands of Walter Gordon he put his heartache behind him to ensure his family still had their fun.

But Nick was right about his family…their collective wailing reached a new pitch and Gil himself felt his tears start again…not at the casket’s slow disappearance to the unaccountably jolly music, but at Jillian Stokes, who had been as stoical as he’d expected until that moment, when it appeared she wanted them to stop the casket leaving her sight…the last time she would ever be close to the body of her son.

“Poor Momma…I wish she could see me, or I could comfort her.”

“Go try…it worked for me.”

“Do you think I should?”

“Yes, at least try.”

So Nick released Gil’s hand, smiled a sad smile and moved up behind his Momma. She was being held by Judge Stokes, in a death grip, as she sobbed. Nick touched her back and then started his familiar rubbing motion between her shoulder blades. To Gil it looked as if he was pressing quite hard and he was leaning towards her and speaking to her.

In about a minute she had most definitely calmed down and Gil heard her say quite clearly.

“Oh Bill, I feel him with me, telling me he’s okay and not to worry, I feel his presence. He was such a good boy, he was always so kind.”

There was a look of triumph from Nick and he smiled back at Gil. He stayed with her for a few more minutes and the music quieted to leave the sound of tears and mumbled conversation between Nick’s family. He then came back to Gil.

“I guess I’ll know in a little while whether or not I’m staying or going.”

Gil couldn’t respond, but he was struck at just how lifelike Nick was, his jovial ghost persona (do ghosts have ‘personas’, he thought) gone and he appeared just as he did when he was alive.

Judge Stokes led the mourners out into the fresh air again and most were now trying to pull themselves together, a sister would succeed and then remember something else and start crying again.

“Gil, I’m pleased that you were here, you followed him from his death to his burial…or cremation, as he wished. Looking after him to the end. Jillian and I will never forget your kindness to Nick and to us. Nick would be proud.”

“I am, Gil, thanks for doing it for them and…me.”

“Judge, you’re more than welcome. He was an exceptional young man and I will miss him.”

“Jillian says she feels his presence now and that he’s caring and soothing just like he was when he was with us, never wanted arguments with the girls, always the peace maker. We’ve got to try and remember the good times with him, because if we dwell on his death, we’ll lose sight of those good times.”

“That’s right, I think Nick would want you to do that; but it’s still hard to do.” Gil felt his eyes tearing up again and his voice cracked as he spoke. He thought that this time, rather than with grief, it was because of his own blatant hypocrisy. He could see Nick, feel Nick, talk to Nick, and have Nick talk back. He poor parents couldn’t do that and here he was, offering platitudes.

Nick himself was hanging back from the group…he knew that his mortal remains were about to get…fired up and burned to dust. He hoped he…well, his ghostly person…wouldn’t be going the same way.

He had thought of staying at the crematorium until he knew the outcome but then decided if he was just going to go, then he’d rather be with Gil when it happened. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before the oven was fired up...he chuckled at his own grim humour. No, he’d stay with the group and what did they say, ‘expect the worst, but hope for the best’. He could do no more.

The journey back to the ranch was quiet. The rest of the mourners were already congregated there and drinks and a buffet had been laid on for them.

Gil went out to the paddock alone, in the hope that Nick would follow him; he did.

“How’re you feeling? Does a ghost feel?”

“I’m okay…do you know I didn’t have feelings at all when it first happened but it’s like they’re growing inside of me. I mean I’m still not ‘normal’…” Nick stopped to laugh at what he’d said and Gil’s raised eyebrows. “…you know what I mean, I don’t feel emotions like when I was alive but they’re definitely in me…somehow. Oh, shut up Stokes, you’re rambling.”

“No, you’re not rambling I think you’re trying to come to terms with what’s happened. You’ve never been a ghost before. Have you had any feeling about…your…cremation?”

“No. Nothing. They’re going to bring the ashes here to the house about four this afternoon and then just Daddy and Momma, Danny and the girls are going down to the Stokes’ plot. I can’t believe I’m talking about this. I can’t believe I’m dead, Gil. Is this fucking weird or is this fucking weird.”

“’Fucking weird’ doesn’t come anywhere near. Catherine’s coming over.”

“Hey, Gil, I saw you out here on your own, you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Look; I’m sorry about saying those things to you, it was uncalled for and Nicky would have been horrified at me. You did really well today and Nick would have been proud. God, Gil, it’s just so sad, so awful he’s gone, I can’t believe it.”

“No, nor me, none of it.” Of course, Gil actually meant about the ghost bit.

“I am with Warrick, you know, and we’re going to come clean about it; how Nick died, it makes you realise how precious and precarious life is, so, we’ll see how it works out.”

“Good for you. Ecklie needs to know.”

“Yeah, well. I’m going back inside. See you.”

“See you.”

“Man, you were very dismissive of her.”

“Was I? I’m not bothered...actually since your death I don’t seem to be able to be bothered about much. It didn’t make any sense did it, Nicky, except to spare you the pain of a lingering death. I don’t think I could have borne the tragedy of you wasting away, you’re so young and vibrant.”

“I was, Gil. You need to use the past tense.”

“Yes. It’s difficult.”

“Yeah…do you think I’ve been incinerated yet?”

“Nick! For chrissakes try and be a little…doesn’t matter does it…you are dead and you’re a ghost and your carcass, for want of a better word, is going to be incinerated.”

“Hey…it might be a carcass but it was a mighty fine specimen and I spent a lot of time and energy keeping ‘it’ in condition.”

“I know you did. I said to the Doc how good you looked when you were lying on his table...seems like a million years ago.”

“You thought I was good looking dude then?”

“Yes, of course I did, do, did, Nick. You were, are, God, these tenses…. You ARE a very good looking young man. I couldn’t understand why you never had a long time girl, or were never married, I know the job suits a loner, but you had it all, Nick. You had it all…”

“Yeah, about that girl thing; you know I was always with the girls in the hide….”

“The hide! I meant to say that your brother confirmed your story when I was in the car with him; I officially believe you’re a ghost.”

“You mean you still needed convincing?” Nick laughed.

“I guess I did.” Gil laughed too and they stood together in an entirely companionable silence watching the horses skitter across the paddock.

Some minutes later a black car made its way along the drive to the front of the house. Both men recognised the undertaker when he got out of the car. He was carrying an urn.

“That’s me, Gil, I've been done and I’m still here, I’m staying…at least I think I am.”

Nick gave Gil his best grin and a couple of ‘whoops’ with his arms. Gil tried to stay composed but he really didn’t know whether to laugh because he was happy Nick was staying; or cry because Nick Stokes had actually been reduced to an urn full of ashes.

“We have to leave soon to get our flight back. Are you coming back with us…me?”

“Yeah…the family will heal you know, all together, they’re a strong unit. I think I want to be in Vegas; I do at the moment anyway, I suppose I’ll have to see what happens. I mean what do ghosts do?”

“Haunt?”

“I guess. You?”

“I guess.”

Goodbyes were said and then the troupe made their way to the airport. Gil stopped by the men’s room to change into more comfortable travelling clothes, before he checked in.

Nick was wondering around the airport and he thought that he felt so much better than when he’d arrived there the day before. He needed to talk to Gil about what had happened to him, but it would have to wait until they were back in Gil’s home, where they were safe from prying eyes and sensitive ears, or dogs, anyway.

Nick was a little concerned that if Gil was seen speaking to him then some serious questions could be asked about his stability…after all, even the esteemed Dr Grissom was not given to chatting to himself. Nick chuckled. He could see Gil across the lounge; he was sitting by the others but not talking to them and he didn’t even appear to be listening to their conversation.

It was strange that he’d been drawn to Gris. Something about the moments following his death and the way Gil had spoken his name, had meant that Nick remained here on earth. Of course, he had no idea at all, about where he should have gone or where he should be now…if anywhere at all. But, he was becoming more and more certain that somehow his ‘future’, he chuckled again, his future was linked with Gil Grissom. It was like a seed that had been sown and it was gradually growing into a fully fledged notion.

It was why he had no compunction to stay with his parents and family who all had each other. Gil had no one, as far as Nick knew, so he would be Gil’s friend now, he would take care of him for as long as he was needed.

Yes, that was it; Gil needed him, which was why he was here. It was Gil’s request to Nick to stay, in the form of his whispered name, which had made it all possible. Now Nick wondered why he suddenly knew all this information, because it was the truth and he knew it was.

They called the flight and Nick joined Gil in line to board.

“Hope there’s a spare seat again.”

Gil’s response was to just look in Nick’s direction and raise his eyebrows a little.

There was no spare seat, so Nick spent the flight in another row and thought more about his ‘knowledge’ of things. In a few minutes it seemed they were at McCarran.

Gil’s SUV was in the lot and he said his goodbyes to the team and made his way home, with Nick as his passenger. Nick seemed relaxed to Gil who then laughed out loud at the thought.

“What?”

“I just thought you looked relaxed. You’re a ghost, can you be relaxed?

“I believe I can; I do feel better than I did, now that I know the funeral’s over. I can get down to….”

“What?”

“Well, I was going to say ‘living’, but that’s not it, is it?”

“Not exactly, but since we don’t know what you’re actually going to do, or what’s going to happen I suppose you will be ‘living’…as a ghost.”

“Yeah. I know some more things Gil…I’ve had some kind of knowledge…‘download’ from somewhere.”

“Really, now that sounds interesting.”

“It is, but come on, drive us home and get yourself a drink and we’ll talk about it.”

“Okay. ‘Home’? You consider my place home?”

“I think I do…is that okay with you?”

“Yes. Yes it is.” Gil smiled.

Gil unpacked while he was waiting for the kettle to boil, having decided on tea instead of something stronger. Nick was ‘helping’ to hang up Gil’s clothes. He could grasp a tie like he had a bottle of beer, but if he didn’t concentrate it would fall through his hand. He tried hanging Gil’s suit pants but it was too intricate a job to fold them over a pants’ hanger while holding the pants and the hanger and everything fell to the floor.

“I’m being more of a hindrance than a help here. Shall I see if I can make your tea?”

“No, you could burn yourse…. No, you couldn’t burn yourself, but you might make a mess.”

“You don’t want me to help do you?” Nick looked a bit crestfallen.

“Oh, come on, you’re a ghost and you’ve got to learn to do things, but it’s a bit pointless you doing stuff and then I have to clear up the mess…not because I’m bothered but I think you’ve got to take it a step at a time…I mean you can hold onto some things. Just take your time…I think you’ve got plenty of that.”

“Time is weird. You know last night when you slept for very nearly eight hours and I stayed on the bed beside you all night?” At Gil’s nod and frown, he continued, “Well in my …old human terms it was about thirty minutes to me, and I stayed there, I’m not aware that I was anywhere else. The same on the flight home, man, it was just a few minutes. I seem to be here all the time when I‘m with you and talking to you, but if I’m not time just ‘flies’.”

Gil looked at Nick pondering what he’d said. Of course, he had no more idea than Nick about why this happened.

“Perhaps, it’s a form of sleep, if you’re not talking…and bear in mind you can only talk to me…at the moment anyway. If you are not actively engaged perhaps you just ‘rest’?”

“That’s a very plausible explanation, Dr Grissom. When I teleport it takes a very long time, I think it’s been minutes and it’s been hours, it could be because I have some sort of molecular structure that takes time to de-materialise at one site and then re-materialise at another site. What do you think?” Nick was asking a serious question.

“I think, Nick…” Gil spoke in a thoughtful and serious voice and Nick looked suitably expectant. “…that you’ve watched too much Star Trek.”

“Oh man. I thought you had a good idea there.” But Nick was laughing.

“I have no idea Nick…you’re a ghost!”

“Okay, go get your tea and I’ll tell you about this epiphany type thing I had.”

“Do you know, Nick, for a ghost you’re very bossy?”

“Cite your source, Dr Grissom.”

“You see what I mean? Not only bossy but sassy too.” Gil laughed as he went, as instructed, to make himself a tea.

A few minutes later when both men were settled on the couch Gil began. “So what was your epiphany?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing really, because I don’t know how I know and I could be wrong…but I think I’m right…but I don’t know how…I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, after the cremation I suddenly felt stronger, as a ghost. It’s because my body’s gone, I was kinda connected to the remains, while they remained, and as soon as they were gone I became more powerful, more solid…”

“…the ‘solid’ bit I understand because you were more solid in the hotel…but that was before your cremation.”

“I know, I was growing in strength but the loss of the physical…‘me’ has made me more powerful in this…state. I feel it; I felt it at the ranch after I’d been cremated. Also, I know why I’m drawn to you...because it was you who stopped me from leaving at the moment I died. You called me at the precise moment my…”

“…soul?”

“For want of a better word. The moment it should have left me and gone…wherever, you called me to you and I think, Gil, that I will be with you, stay with you…I’m YOUR ‘personal’ ghost. Nick Stokes at your service.”

“So this is my fault?”

“You think it’s a fault?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to have a ghost of you, Nicky Stokes. If I called you back from going on ‘somewhere’, I could prevent you from being in, I don’t know, paradise? This is all my fault. I’m sorry Nick, so very sorry.” Gil was overtaken with a feeling of great remorse. He rubbed his forehead and was sure that he would weep at this revelation.

“I don’t know that and neither do you; it could be that I am like I am now as a ghost or I could have faded into nothingness. I don’t think it’s awful, Gil, I like it. I like being your personal ghost. Please don’t be upset.”

Nick moved right beside Gil and enveloped his shoulders in a hug and as he did so he tried a new trick, he’d thought about when he was with his mother in the crematorium. Positive projecting, that’s what he was going to call it.

Nick projected a feeling of ‘well-being’, he couldn’t call it happiness, outright, but he smiled to himself because it was ‘happiness’ actually. Nick felt the ‘warmth’ and he knew that Gil did too, for Gil sighed and relaxed into the embrace and settled his head on Nick’s shoulder. In a few moments Gil was fast asleep. Nick was somewhat indignant.

“Oh man, I wanted to talk some more.” He whispered to Gil, but smiled as he leaned back and Gil’s body followed him and slept as if cushioned on the most comfortable mattress ever invented. “Ectoplasmic pillowing.” Nick muttered and then he, too, seemed to sleep, because the next thing they both knew, Gil's bladder insisted he empty it as soon as he could and the sun proclaimed their sleep to have taken them through to the next morning.

“Hey, how you feeling?”

“I feel like a million dollars, at least I will when I’ve taken a piss.”

“Go.”

“Thank you Nicky, for making me feel this way. I do want you to stay around and be my personal ghost.”

“You’re welcome. Now go.”

“I’m gone.”

Gil thought he should go to work during the day to clear his backlog of work, but was persuaded against it by Nick. Gil had showered and eaten breakfast, done a few chores around the house and ordered his groceries on-line. Nick thought he was avoiding having another conversation about Nick’s ghostly reasons for being with Gil. But Nick was patient. He could wait; he had, after all, all the time in the world.

Nick suggested blowing cobwebs away with a gentle hike up in the mountains. Gil dismissed it out of hand and then thought he’d not had any fresh air or even gentle exercise for a few weeks, months even.

So they drove out to Lake Mead and followed a nature trail, nothing too strenuous. Gil spotted bugs and Nick pointed out birds. For three hours. Gil ate a lunch at a local seafood restaurant and they returned to Gil's house with four hours to go before Gil's shift began.

He set his alarm and lay down for a guaranteed sleep with Nick at his side. They’d had no more talk of reasons for Nick’s ghostly being. Nick was letting the dust settle before he mentioned his little ‘idea’ to Gil. No need to spook him unnecessarily. Nick chuckled as he watched Gil sleep... and then the alarm sounded.

An energised Gil showered and shaved, made coffee and threw together a salad for his lunch at work and then drove to work. Nick was just hanging with Gil, he still had his idea, but was waiting for a chance to tell Gil, he’d chose the moment carefully when Gil would be relaxed…or chilled. Nick chuckled to himself, Gil was most usually the epitome of chilled, he rarely lost his temper and always tried to turn someone’s mistake or problem at work into a learning experience, hell, Nick should know he’d had more than his fair share.

When they arrived at work, Nick said he’d just wonder around and find out what everyone was gossiping about. Gil took one look at his in tray and sighed. If the team had been away with him, how come he had an overflowing in-tray? The answer, he believed, was that it was overflowing before they went to Dallas. It was his own fault; he should be as diligent with his paper work as he was with his forensic investigations. He’d have a night in and try making some headway.

Nick returned as Gil was handing out assignments, nothing major and the team seemed subdued as they prepared to leave the briefing room.

“It seems so final now; before the funeral it was just as if he was away, but now we know he’s gone and will never return.” Catherine voiced the collective thoughts of the team.

“It’ll never be the same, he’ll never be replaced, there’ll always be a hole in the middle of us.” Greg was equally depressed. Gil was chewing on the arm of his glasses.

“You’re right, Nick was an intrinsic part of this team, never to be replaced, but if Nick was here now he’d be telling you to get on with the job and quit whining. Nick recovered from most of the things that were thrown at him by just getting on with the job. Remember that however awful it was he could have died slowly before our eyes, at least this way he went out with all guns blazing. Come on guys, he wouldn’t want you being maudlin over him and you know it.”

“You tell ‘em Gil.” Nick agreed. “But I think Catherine’s about to give you an icy blast again.”

“Gil, for God’s sake give us all a chance, we can’t just forget him like you, apparently, are able to do so.”

“I will never forget Nicky, Catherine. Never.” Gil was getting angry and Nick chuckled at his earlier thought that he was ‘Mr Chilled’. “But I really do believe that he faced more fucking shit than all of us put together but he still came back and did his job, this time he can’t come back but in his memory I think we should all remember his attitude.”

Gil Grissom had sworn at them. There wasn’t one person in the room who’d heard him swear at work. Conrad Ecklie had, but then he wasn’t in the room.

“You’re right Grissom; come on lets get to work.” Warrick defused Catherine’s anger and he pointedly took her by her arm and led her out. The others followed immediately.

“Man, you told them. Cussin’ an all.” Nick was going to chuckle but saw Gil’s thunderous expression and thought better of it. “I’ll let you calm down a bit. See you later.” And he followed on the heels of his ex-colleagues.

Gil gathered his papers and went back to his office. He was embarrassed; he’d never lost it quite as badly as that in all the years he’d been at the lab. But the strain of keeping Nick’s ghostly presence under wraps and then this constant sniping from Catherine was obviously getting to him. He needed to calm down; Catherine, all of them, were dealing with this in their own way and he should take that into account, but it was as if they thought he had no regard for Nick at all and that was just not true.

As Nick walked along the corridor away from Gil’s wrath, he was overcome with the strangest sensation he’d experienced as a ghost. An almost overwhelming sensation to go somewhere straight away, he didn’t know where, but he started to de-materialise and had a moment’s panic as he thought he may be leaving for good, without any goodbyes.

Gil sat at his desk and calmed himself down; he had to try to deal with the seeming onslaught from Catherine about his alleged disrespect of Nick’s memory but he had to attack his paperwork, or it would take over his office. He’d opened the first file and then the ‘phone rang out.

“Grissom.” He almost growled his name out.

“Not a good time to tell you we’ve got a db then?”

“Sorry, Jim; I’m letting people get under my skin. What is it?”

“A young woman in a suitcase at the city dump.”

“I’ve just sent the team out; look, I’ll come out, I’d rather get my teeth into a crime scene than a pile of paper.”

Gil jotted down the details that Jim had given him. He paid a visit to the bathroom and then collected his kit. He was looking around for Nick but couldn’t see him and he couldn’t delay going to the scene, so he reasoned that Nick would catch up with him, he usually did.

Gil was considerably calmer as he drove out to the city dump. He knew he shouldn’t let Catherine or anyone else for that matter, get to him and annoy and anger him. But it was difficult, when he wasn’t, exactly, as grief stricken as they were. He’d a lot of moments when he contemplated the enormity of what had happened - the death of, and now the haunting by, Nick Stokes. And now Nick’s own admission, or at least thought, that it was his calling to Nick that had kept Nick on earth, when he should be ‘somewhere’… wherever, else.

Gil could see the lights of the emergency vehicles at the scene as he approached and as he found a spot to park his own truck he saw Jim taking to officials. The dump was lit with very powerful arc lights, giving that eerie light that wasn’t daylight but was too bright to be night time. As he jumped out of his truck he was struck by the smell of general decomposition and filth.

He approached Jim and Jim turned to acknowledge Gil.

“They can’t be positive about where this particular area of trash came from, but it’s likely to be Henderson. The guy with the backhoe just happened to see the body when he was levelling the trash and disturbed and damaged the suitcase. He could have further damaged the body, I don’t know. Woman, maybe early twenties, naked, dead…that’s all I got.”

“Thanks Jim. I take it she’s down by where the guys are standing?”

“Yep.”

“I need to suit up for this and put on my boots, I’ll be a few minutes.”

Gil went back to his truck and opened the back up. He pulled out his boots and an all in one suit. He took off his jacket and shoes and leaned on the back ledge of the truck as he manoeuvred himself into the white suit, pulling it up over his pants and shirt.

“Gil, Gil, you are NOT going to believe this!” A very excited ghost was suddenly standing in front of him.

Nick had felt this strange pulling sensation when he’d been walking along the corridor at the lab. Even as he tried to figure out what was happening to him he was being pulled somewhere. In a moment he was gone from the lab and standing with a group of men in overalls and hard hats. He was at the city dump…he’d been this place a few times in his life.

Suddenly before him was another ghost. He immediately guessed that she was a ghost because her ectoplasm was shaky and almost see through, that, and oh, she was naked.

“Mr Stokes? Is that really you? Are you dead too? I think I am because I’m lying in a pile of crap over there. I've been murdered and you know I was thinking about you and what you told me about forensics and I wondered if I could do anything to help catch the bastards.”

“Errr…Miss, do I know you?”

“Sure you do, I‘m Candy Baker. You worked that murder at the ‘Pink Pig’, when I was working there and I asked all those questions about what you were doing, and how you did it and what it all meant and you were just so sweet to me, even you know…knowing I was a working girl. You were really sweet and now you’re dead as well. I guess you’re not going to be able to help me after all.”

“Candy? Did you have blonde hair back then?”

“Oh yeah, I went red about four months ago, it’s the new blonde, you know?”

“Hell, I do remember you; I do…you were friends with the girl who killed her boyfriend.”

“Melody, yeah, he deserved it, he was a bastard. She’s being tried for second degree or manslaughter you know, they knocked it down from murder one.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. So, Candy, what’s happened to you?”

“Well, I’m on a web site now, all very high tech, you know, and I had a mail from a customer wanting me to be at Harrah’s, the night before last…was that Monday? Yeah. Anyways, the guy doesn’t show, so I walk around the back and this car stops me and a woman asks me if I swing, you know, both ways. I says…if the money’s right, so I get in and she’s hot, you know what I mean. Not the type of lezzie you see around here, you know, more like the L word?

“Anyways she takes me to a house, I’m sure it was hers, up in Henderson. And would you frigging believe it there’s a man there, and I’ll swear he’s as gay as they come. She says he’s the old man…I mean she’s hot, and he’s queer and hell they’re married. Freaking weird. But hey, as nice as apple pie and then some.”

Nick was listening intently to this tale of woe, but something about what she was saying rang a bell in the distant reaches of his brain. He didn’t interrupt Candy and she continued.

“Well the queer boy says he’s going out to find his piece of ass and in the meantime ‘make myself at home’. So we did. Went to her, or their bedroom, I don’t know if it was ‘theirs’. Anyways we do the biz…pretty straightforward, you know, she’s got a couple of toys and we use them, well I use them on her. But it’s okay and she’s already given me three hundred bucks and says if I stay with her and her husband with the guy that he brings in, she’ll give me another three hundred. I mean this is good money, well I could make more, but it’s easy money, you know what I mean? Well, I thought it was...you know…how wrong can a gal be?

“So Mitch, the gay hubby comes back about a couple of hours later with a guy I've seen around a bit, called Troy, hell, like that’s his real name, you know. So we do a foursome, although it’s really two twosomes, because I’m with her and Troy is with Mitch. And it’s all going okay and then….yeah, I should’ve known, Abigail, that’s the lezzie, says would we mind, that’s me and Troy, if we got cuffed up together. Well I’ve done that before and Troy seemed okay…so we do. Big mistake.

“Once we were cuffed to the bedposts, man, solid metal they were, they turned from Mr and Mrs Middle America into freaking maniacs. Look at my back and front, can you see…oh, you can’t here, but on my body back there, I tell you they laid into both of us with this whip and then she was sucking off Troy and Mitch was after me, but I tell you I wouldn’t let him in but he hit me on the head and I was like, stunned, and he did me while he was watchin freaking Abigail trying to suck Troy off, but he couldn’t get off, I mean he had blood running down him and she was licking it and then sucking him off, God it was gross…he’s here too, Troy…he’s in another suitcase, a canvass thing.

“Anyways, Mr Stokes, they get worse and worse and put gags in our mouths and then cords ‘round our necks. They didn’t tighten them and kill us then, no they left them quite tight and then she takes it up the ass from her husband, all the time watching us, and I think, you know, that I am going to die and funny thing I remembered you and what you said about leaving evidence when someone dies. So I decided that I would try and get some. But it’s difficult, you know ‘cause they strangled me with that cord they each pulled an end of the cord and made Troy watch and he cried for me…and then they did him, but you know what the bastards did then? They washed us down and scrubbed our nails and put bleach on us. I guess they knew about this forensic shit as well.

“They towelled us down and put me in this suitcase and put it in the trunk of their car and put Troy in this zipped up bag and put him on the back seat of their car and took us to a big skip at the corner of the mall and then they waited in the car lot to see if the dump truck would come and empty it and it did and here I am…here we are…..

“What can I do Mr Stokes, how can I nail the bastards?”

“Poor Candy, I’m so sorry for you, but they may have left evidence anyway, but we really need their names; do you know their surname?”

“Nope, just Abigail and Mitch…he called her Abigail and Abs oh, and I think they were air stewards, at least he was because he said he was…...”

Nick must have looked shocked.

“What’s wrong?”

“Was she blonde, shoulder length with bangs but with dark roots showing at the back?”

“Yeah, that’s her. You know her?”

“Not exactly. What else do you know; do you know the address you were at, in Henderson?”

“It was on Water Street, because I remember seeing the name when she drove me there. It was a real nice house, an old one, brick, it was 1251…it was 1251…I know it was! Mr Stokes, we’re going to get them, we are…we are……but you’re dead as well, aren’t you? What happened to you?”

“I had an accident, head injury. Look we need to find some way for you to get that address to the forensic team. Let me think about it.”

Candy was shimmering in the lights of the dump; she looked ghostly to Nick, but having thought that thought he had to concede that she was, in fact, entitled to look ghostly.

“Candy, hold up here a minute I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Nick closed his eyes and thought of Gil Grissom with all his might; this was one time he needed to teleport quickly. It still must have taken him some time because the place was now crawling with uniforms, but he was in front of Gil who was putting on an overall.

“Gil, Gil you are NOT going to believe this! But I need you to listen to me, don’t interrupt and then you need to come up with a solution, you got that?”

“Nick.” Gil whispered looking around him but there was no one close by. “I’m at a scene here; I have to go examine a murder victim.”

“Listen please, just listen. I know the girl who’s dead, she was a friend of a woman who murdered her boyfriend and we got to talking, well she’s…errr…summoned me to her ghost and told me what’s happened. She knows who the murderers are and that there’s another body here too, but she’s been cleaned up and there might not be any evidence. I know I can tell you, but that’s no good, ‘cause you won’t get a warrant on a ghost’s say so.”

Gil looked incredulous. His first instinct was to call Nick on a ludicrous story, but, there was a girl in a suitcase and Nick was a ghost himself, Gil was certain of that now.

“Can she, or can you make some evidence known…like…I don’t know….”

“….like the address where it took place…she knows the address. I wonder, look I’ll try, can you stall as long as possible.”

“I’ll try.”

This time instead of teleporting Nick chose to run down to the crime scene and he saw Candy watching the area being taped up.

“Candy, I know what we’ve got to do but I don’t know if you can do it, but I might be able to on your behalf. I want to write the address on the suitcase, on the inside, in your blood, are you bloody?”

“Not very, they washed me down.”

“Hold on then I've got another idea. Wait here.”

Nick went back to see where Gil was. He was talking with Jim; he was really trying to stall. Nick went up beside him and spoke.

“Hey, lose Jim and make your way to the scene.”

“Okay Jim, I’d better get down there, is the coroner on his way?”

“Super Dave himself. Hey, Nick called him that didn’t he?”

“I believe he did, yes.”

“No ‘believe I did’ at all, I did.” Gil smiled to himself as Nick’s indignant retort.

“I’ll see you down there.” And with that Jim made his way back to his car.”

When Jim was out of earshot Gil murmured to Nick, ‘What’s going on?” He tried not to move his lips too much.

“I know that ‘normally’ tampering with evidence is a no-no, but as I’m a ghost I can hardly be caught tampering. When we get down there if you take a marker out and leave it for me to use I can try and write the address on the lining of the suitcase and you can find it. I thought I could use Candy’s blood, but they’ve washed her down. It’ll probably be difficult for me to write and I've had practise, at being a ghost, so I’m betting there’s no way Candy will be able to do it, and hell if we can get the perps, it’ll be good.”

“I have never tampered with evidence in my life and I’m not going to start now. It’s against every principle I have.”

“You won’t be doing it, I will…and ‘hello’, I’m a ghost and this is a chance to get two cold blooded murderers, you should’ve heard what they did to her…and you’ve got to ask them to look around for the other suitcase…the man that was murdered.”

“Nick, I don’t know about this.”

“Gil, I’ll try to write the address down and all you have to do is find it; it’s not tampering it’s providing you with bona fide evidence. We can assume that Candy wasn’t dead when she was put in the case and was able to write this message before she died. How could anyone in a court say it came from a ghost, or two ghosts to be exact? I know it doesn’t explain the marker, but it must have been in the suitcase and lost at the dump when the backhoe ripped open the suitcase.”

“I’ll see.”

They were very nearly at the site of the broken suitcase and the naked girl.

“Hey, Candy, this is my boss, Gil Grissom. Can you see her, Gil?”

Gil looked around and could see nothing remotely like a ghost and then shook his head; he could hardly believe that he’d just looked around for a ghost.

“Hi, Mr Stokes, can he see you?”

“Yes, but don’t ask me why.”

“Have you got a plan?”

“The makings of a plan. Do you know where the other body...the other suitcase is?”

“Yes, it’s just there, I haven’t seen Troy, have you?”

“No, but I didn’t know him, perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you know me.” Nick looked to where she’d pointed and he could just see the corner of a suitcase sticking out of the trash; it was the same colour as the one Candy’s body was half in.

“Gil, have a look around and suddenly see something over there that catches your eye, it might have anyway, it's a bit of a case or bag, like this one, sticking out of the trash and it’s where Candy says Troy is.”

Nick pointed it out to Gil who pretended to look around but saw the case straight away; it was no more than twenty feet away.

“Before you go, open your kit and show me where your marker is, and take the top off.”

Gil did as instructed and stood up and looked around taking photographs of the immediate scene and then, as nonchalantly as he could, he looked around the area and when his eyes saw the other case, he looked puzzled and made his unsteady was across the trash to where it lay, the end exposed in all the trash. He called out.

“Hey, there’s a case here the same colour as that one.” He indicated Candy’s. Two cops, and several members of the crew, who’d been by the crime scene made their way over to where Gil was standing, leaving Nick alone with the marker pen and the suitcase.

He had to do this quickly, if he could do it at all. He hadn’t tried to write before. He picked up the pen and dropped it several times over, but then got the hang of it and moved it to the suitcase keeping it against the ground. He didn’t want anyone to see the pen moving in ‘mysterious’ ways.

He put the pen against the fabric interior and then thought for a few moments about where Candy would have written on the lining if she was inside, it was a large case and Candy was a neat, petite girl, so there would have been a little space. Nick calculated from the position of the body where she could have reached with her right hand.

“Candy, you right handed or a lefty?”

“Right.”

“Okay, here goes.”

As much as Nick tried he could not get the marker to write the message. It would not write and it looked as if his plan would fail.

“Mr Stokes, weren’t you going to do this in my blood you know, originally?”

“I was. But there’s no blood.”

“There is if you stick your finger in one of the wounds on my tits…sorry breasts.”

“Candy, come here.” Candy moved up against Nick as he knelt by the suitcase. “You try and do it, see if you can because it’s…well, it’s you.”

Candy ran her ghostly finger inside one of her own wounds and pulled it out and showed Nick that it was red with her congealed blood.

“Write it Candy, think real hard and do it.”

Candy moved her finger over the lining where Nick showed her and she wrote, ‘1 2 5’ but it became very faint, so she dipped her finger in her body again and went over the five and then wrote ‘1’ and then ‘wat’, before dipping her finger in and going over those letters and then finally added the ‘er’.

Her task done she looked at Nick and smiled a lovely happy smile at him. “I’m going now, but thank you Mr Stokes for everything, for me and for Troy. I gotta go now.”

And just like that she faded away to nothingness in the blink of an eye. Nick put the marker back in Gil’s kit. No evidence had been fabricated. Candy wrote the address herself in her own blood. It would be sufficient to get a warrant to search the house – 1251 Water Street, Henderson.

It wouldn’t take Gil, or even Jim, long to decipher the address that Candy had left.

There was a lot of commotion over by Troy. His body had been discovered, in a large canvas case that matched Candy’s.

Nick went over to Gil who was supervising the retrieval of the case from the trash.

“That was a lucky find Dr Grissom.” One of the cops observed.

“I’m not a great believer in luck, but this time you might just be right.” Gil smiled up at the officer and also at Nick who was watching the proceedings and smiling his own smile. This could well be a successful operation, Gil concluded.

He was exactly right. The bloody message was discovered and putting the facts together the address was deciphered. It was sufficient for a warrant and Abigail and Mitchell Harper were arrested and their home was searched and examined by Catherine and Sara. The Harpers had done an excellent clean up job on their place. Bedding and towels had been washed in a bleach solution that had degraded any DNA evidence. Their bathroom had been cleaned and bleached.

There was no evidence on either body, except, of course, for a bloody forefinger on Candy’s right hand. An expert concluded that the message was indeed written in her handwriting.

(Privately, this single piece of evidence was the one thing that seriously spooked Abigail and Mitch, because they KNEW that Candy was dead when they put her in the suitcase.)

But the best break came when the handcuffs used to restrain the two young people were swabbed and although the outsides of the cuffs had been cleaned, there were epithelials on the inside of the bracelets where they’d been tightened around the wrists of Candy and Troy.

Added to that, Candy’s computer showed she was supposed to have been with a ‘client’ at Harrah’s and there was a clear shot on Harrah’s hotel rear CCTV cameras of Abigail stopping and picking up Candy.

In Abigail’s locker at McCarran airport there were watches belonging to Candy and Troy and four more jewellery trophies that DNA samples proved were the property of four other missing people. Two in Chicago and two in Boston. Both missing couples comprised a male and female prostitute.

Nick had been instrumental in capturing two serial killers and solving six murders. Nick of course, said it was Candy’s case. But Gil pointed out that if Nick had not been a ghost then Candy would not have able to make contact.

Nick countered that argument by saying that she might well have made contact with a living Nick, because, after all, he’d made contact with Gil.

The weirdest thing for ghost and man was that Abigail had been on their flight to Dallas and when Nick had gone into the cockpit to watch the plane take off, it was Abigail Harper that the crew had been discussing and Nick himself had concluded, as had the crew that, lesbian or not, she was ‘smokin’’.

The esteemed Dr Grissom was lauded as the team leader who’d solved the case. As usual, he deflected the praise onto the team, but he wished with all his heart that he could’ve included Nick Stokes in the team plaudits.

Nick was the happiest ghost in…well Nick was the happiest ghost. He settled into Gil Grissom’s townhouse with him, he gave him space to allow him some privacy in his private life and wondered around the country a little when Gil slept, but generally speaking he accompanied Gil to crime scenes and they became a team. Nick liked to refer to them as, ‘Dr Grissom and the ghost’, but as Gil pointed out there was precedence for them being, ‘The Ghost and Dr Grissom’.

The End.......‘Boxerboo’ has given me a number of scenarios and I’m going to try to develop some more fics about ‘The Ghost and Dr Grissom’. I have started the sequel! (That’s for maxieroc…who always asks!)

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