Title: It's a Wonderful Life, Greg!
By: Serenity
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's Christmas and Greg's feeling depressed. Spoilers through season 8 up to US airings.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or the characters used here, I'm doing this for love, not money.

Greg yawned loudly as he turned the key, opening the door to the house he and Nick had shared for the past couple of years. Nick followed closely behind, shutting the door and indulging in a full body stretch, grimacing as the sickening noise of joints crunching filled the silent house.

“Man, I’m exhausted,” Nick sighed, then copied Greg’s earlier yawn, “I’m just going to crash, then shower before work.”

“OK,” Greg nodded as he checked through the mail, tossing it onto the counter upon realising it was nothing but junk. “I think I’ll take a quick shower now. I feel all gross after being in that dumpster.” They’d been working on a rape/murder and once again Greg had drawn the short straw and ended up sorting through trash all night.

“Fine, but please try and keep the noise down, I really need to sleep.” Nick asked in a slightly annoyed voice before heading towards the bedroom, stripping his clothes off as he went.

Greg nodded again out of habit, even though Nick was no longer there to see the gesture. He headed for the bathroom and turned the shower to as hot as his skin could take it, then stripped out of his clothes, which still smelled slightly of garbage even though he’d worn coveralls to the crime scene. He dumped them in the overflowing laundry basket and stepped into the shower.

Allowing the inviting billows of steam to envelop him, he squeezed some unscented shower gel onto a sponge and began to soap himself off. Reaching behind him, he rubbed carefully over the raised, bumpy skin of the scars on his back, grimacing at the tightness he still felt there even after all those years since the lab exploded.

He quickly rinsed the suds off his body and rubbed some shampoo into his hair. Gone were the days when his shower was full of expensive shampoos and conditioners, and his shelves lined with products to tease his hair into every shape he could imagine, or straighteners to make it lie flat. Now he was lucky if he had time to get it trimmed, and his natural curl was fighting its way back.

Remembering he had to leave some hot water for Nick’s shower later, he reluctantly stopped the flow and stepped out into the chilly bathroom, shivering as goose-bumps broke out all over his skin. Wrapping himself in towels he padded towards the bedroom, trying not to make any excess noise that might wake Nick.

He pulled open his underwear drawer, shushing it as it made a squeak of protest. He grabbed some clean boxers, silently shimmying into them, then he tip-toed over to the bed and tried to slip under the covers without moving the bed too much. Nick made a grunt and Greg froze in place, one leg in the bed and one foot on the floor. He stayed there, shivering, until Nick let out a soft snore, and Greg knew he was asleep. Settling gently into the bed, Greg pulled the covers over himself.

And lay there, awake, for the rest of the day, listening to Nick’s gentle breathing and counting the hours until he had to get up again.

~~~

The alarm went off at 4pm, and Nick stirred groggily and reached one hand from his cocoon under the covers and smacked the button until the shrieking stopped. Greg let out a long sigh, rubbed his tired eyes and got up to make coffee for the two of them, throwing on his robe as Nick disappeared into the bathroom and loudly relieved his bladder. Greg rolled his eyes and shuffled to the kitchen, flicking the switch for the percolator. Nick appeared beside him a few minutes later and gladly took the offered cup, settling down at the breakfast bar with the newspaper.

“Nick…,” Greg began, sitting opposite and taking a sip from his own coffee. “We’ve still got some time before work…., if you wanted to head back to bed for a while. You know.”

Nick looked up from the paper with a puzzled look on his face, but then realised what Greg was hinting at and shook his head. “I’m sorry babe, but I’ve got loads of paperwork to do, so I’ve got to go in early. With Grissom away my workload has doubled, and I want to show that I’d make a good supervisor. I gotta put the hours in if I want to impress Ecklie. Raincheck?”

Greg could feel the frustration bubbling in his stomach. “Do you know how long it is since we had sex?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“I dunno, a few weeks or something?” Nick guessed.

“Two months,” Greg spoke over him, “give or take a day. Two months and you haven’t touched me, or even kissed me. I‘m starting to think you‘re losing interest.”

Nick rolled his eyes and smacked his newspaper down on the counter. “Come on Greg, you know how busy work has been since Sara left. And now with Grissom away trying to patch things up with her, we’re two bodies short, it’s a nightmare. I‘m exhausted, Greg. Can‘t you be a little less selfish and see that?”

He got up off the stool, the veins straining in his forehead and stared Greg straight in the eye. “And just FYI,” he fumed, stabbing his finger into his chest, “you haven’t touched me either.” With that he stalked off towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind him so hard that the walls shook.

“At least I’m making the effort now!” Greg yelled as he balanced the dirty cups on top of the ever-growing pile of unwashed dishes.

Suddenly the bathroom door swung open again, and Nick appeared with the laundry basket in his hands and proceeded to dump all the dirty clothes onto the floor of the hallway. “An effort?” he snarled. “Does this look like you’ve been making an effort?” He gestured towards the Jenga-esque crockery in the sink. “It’s your week to do the chores but you seem happy to live in a pig-sty. Well, I’m not.”

“I’ve been busy…,” Greg started, but Nick cut him off.

“You’re no busier than me, yet I manage to get it done when it’s my turn. You’ve still got a few hours before you need to be in work. Get it sorted.”

He kicked the pile of dirty clothes and stormed back into the bathroom. Greg sat back down at the breakfast bar with his head in his hands, not moving save for a flinch when Nick slammed the front door behind him as he left for work. Eventually he willed himself off the stool, bundled the pile of dirty clothes into the washing machine and started on the dishes, mindlessly squirting liquid soap into the sink and swirling it through the murky water.

“How did things get to this?” he whispered to himself. He was exhausted, frustrated, angry and off-balance. Life was overwhelming him and the feelings he had for Nick seemed to be slipping further and further away. He still loved him, but it was as if everything they did irritated each other and it was getting harder to remember why they fell in love in the first place.

He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he knew in his heart - something had to give.

~~~

Two weeks had passed since the argument. The fight hadn’t been repeated, but the tension had been replaced with a cold civility, which somehow was worse. They tip-toed around each other, each one trying not to aggravate the other, making sure work and home ran as smoothly as possible. Nick had taken to falling asleep on the couch when he got home, leaving Greg alone in their double bed. It was never spoken of, never questioned; it was just a routine that they fell into.

What made it worse was that it was now Christmas Eve, and even though they’d made the effort of putting up all the decorations and buying in all the food it felt more like a wake than Christmas.

Greg was at the desk checking his emails on his laptop while Nick read over some paperwork, when an email from Sara popped up. He scanned it quickly, it was mostly just to wish them happy holidays, no real mention of how she and Grissom were getting on, but she seemed happier than he‘d seen her in ages. Making the break seemed as if it was the best thing she’d ever done.

“Sara emailed, she says hey,” he called over his shoulder to Nick.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Nick spoke without looking up, “Stanley Tanner called for you yesterday. I think it was just to give you seasons greetings, but he wanted you to call him back sometime. I promised him you’d call as soon as possible.”

Greg had kept in touch with Stanley since that fateful night when he’d come across the man being attacked in an alleyway by a frenzied gang of youths. They’d become firm friends after Stanley had made a public show of gratitude towards Greg after the inquest into Demetrius James’ death, and usually exchanged holiday greetings.

He looked at his watch, mentally calculating the time difference. “It’s way too late to be calling Tennessee now. I’ll call him tomorrow; wish him and his family a Merry Christmas.”

Nick shuffled his papers into a manila folder and stuffed it in his bag, then threw himself against the back of the couch, rubbing his hand across his eyes and sighing heavily.

“Man, I hate working on Christmas Eve. Talk about ‘the freaks come out’.” He looked over at Greg, who was still looking at the laptop monitor. He was staring intently at it, but not focussing on the words on the screen at all. Everything had started to swim and he suddenly felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, which sagged under the invisible burden.

“You hearing me?” Nick prompted.

“I’m tired Nick.”

“Yeah, tell me about it, but hopefully once Christmas is over and Grissom’s back, things will get a little easier,” Nick replied. “Then we have to start looking for someone else for graveyard.”

“No,” Greg turned in the swivel chair and faced his boyfriend, “that’s not what I mean. No, I mean, I am exhausted right now, but what I’m saying is…. I’m tired of my life. I don’t know how much longer I can do it. I think I need to make changes, or….. or something.” Greg couldn’t believe he’d actually said the words that had been playing on his mind for so long.

“What‘s brought this on all of a sudden?” Nick asked; his voice low and thick.

Greg sighed loudly. “It’s hardly sudden. This has been on my mind for a while. I’m so sick of everything being such a drama, the explosion, your kidnapping, me getting beaten up….”

He stopped talking for a moment and flexed his wrist and fingers, finding the joints still bothersome from where his hand had been smashed to pieces.

“Demetrius James, the inquest, and then the department totally screwing me over by settling with the family like I was the one at fault. Which makes it real easy to trust that CSI has my back,” he said, his voice layered with sarcasm.

“Greg…,” Nick tried to interrupt, but Greg held a hand up to show that he wasn’t finished.

“Now everything that happened with Sara…. I just wonder if all this is worth it.”

Biting his lip, he drew the courage to say what was really on his mind. “And… Look at us, Nick. Things have changed between us as well, haven’t they? We’re not even lovers, not anymore. We’re roommates.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to quit being a CSI? After you worked so hard to get here?” Nick asked, standing up and coming closer to Greg. “Or is this something… more close to home?” He closed his eyes as he spoke the last few words, as if giving voice to them was physically painful.

“I just….,” Greg began, not able to meet Nick’s eyes so instead scraping at the knee of his jeans with his thumbnail, “I just feel….. empty. I’m sorry, it’s just how I feel.”

“How can you sit there and say those things to me?” Nick said, aghast. “You know how I feel about you, I love you.”

“Do you? Or is this relationship just convenient?” Greg asked.

“Are you saying you don’t love me?”

Greg shook his head. “Of course I love you Nick. But I think…. maybe we need a break from each other. It’ll give me time to clear my head, work out what I want. It‘ll give you a chance to do the same.”

Nick ran his tongue across his bottom lip and looked towards the ceiling. When he finally spoke, his voice was shaking. “I already know what I want, Greg. But it looks like we’re not on the same page, so…. you can move your stuff out after work, I’m sure you can find somewhere to crash until you find an apartment.” With that he picked up his bag off the couch and his car keys from the desk, and shooting Greg one last angry look, made for the front door.

“Hang on, I said a break, not that I was leaving you!” Greg cried out, jumping off his chair and running after him.

Nick stopped in the middle of the path and turned slowly to face him. His jaw was clenched tightly and he looked like he was trying not to cry. “You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear. I’m not enough for you,” he shrugged and shook his head. “I can’t believe I was actually going to….”

“What?” Greg pressed when Nick stalled.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he replied. “I’ll see you at work, although you’ll understand if I pair you with Warrick tonight.” With a resolved nod he continued his journey to the SUV, jumped in and sped off down the road without looking back.

“Nick…,” Greg whispered redundantly as the vehicle disappeared from sight. All he’d wanted was to explain to Nick how he felt and get some time to think things through. This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all.

~~~

It wasn’t until later that evening when Greg was getting ready to leave for work himself that he remembered that the transmission had gone in his own car and he’d been supposed to catch a lift into work with Nick. Sighing at yet another thing in his life going wrong, he pulled the front door closed behind him and began the long walk to the crime lab. Perhaps the fresh air might do him good and clear his head a little, although the air in Vegas was usually far from what could be described as ‘fresh’. Shrugging himself lower into his thick jacket, he made the turn from the road they lived on and started towards the main road.

He walked on auto-pilot, his mind filled with the argument with Nick, that stupid falling out, something that should never have happened. He didn’t want to break up with Nick! He loved the guy. All he’d been wanting was a little bit of time to himself to rejuvenate, to find out exactly what he wanted from life. When he was a lab rat he thought becoming a CSI would be enough, but the reality of the job had been quite different from the view he had imagined when working in DNA. He loved getting the bad guy and bringing closure to cases, but dealing with death everyday was putting a strain on his psyche that he hadn’t expected.

Still lost in thought, he didn’t notice when the blinking road sign in front of him changed from ‘walk’ to ‘don’t walk’ as he stepped into the road. Only the sickening screech of brakes broke him from his reflections and he looked up to find a young man climbing out of a silver Ford Cougar which had stopped inches away from Greg’s knees.

“What the hell?” the guy cried, saliva flying from his mouth as he lunged towards Greg. “You trying to get yourself killed, you jackass?”

“I’m sorry,” Greg held his hands up in a placating manner. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with this guy. “I didn’t see the sign change,” he explained.

“Then why don’t you try opening your eyes?” the guy yelled, clenching his fists around the lapels of Greg’s jacket, getting right up in his face. “You could have ruined my car, you son of a bitch.”

“Your car….,” Greg almost laughed at how ludicrous the situation was as he pulled the guy’s hands off him. “Yeah, I guess your car is the most important thing here. I‘m fine, by the way.”

“You’re lucky I don’t call the cops!” the driver huffed as he ran a hand through his black hair and took a step backwards, casting a careful eye over the hood of the car, checking for scratches.

“I don’t think there’s a need for that, look, there’s no harm done,” came a voice from behind them. They both turned to see an elderly lady, small and plump with soft curly grey hair. She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She was dressed in a simple blue smock dress with a dark green shawl, and reminded Greg of every kindly Grandmother in the fairy tales his Mom had read to him as a kid. She reached a hand out to Greg and took his arm. “So…,” she said, turning to the irate driver, “why don’t you be on your way?”

Shooting Greg one last dirty look, he climbed back into the cougar and drove off without another word.

Pleased with herself, the woman turned back to Greg and gave him a friendly smile. “I just live over there,” she said, pointing to an apartment building opposite them. “Why don’t you come in and get your nerves settled?” Her accent wasn’t American, it sounded like she’d spent a lot of her life in England, but not London, Greg thought. More like closer to the north. She reminded him of Angela Lansbury in ’The Lady Vanishes.’ Although he’d never met her in his life before, he felt immediately calmed by her presence.

“I really should be getting to work,” he protested weakly, but allowed himself to be led the rest of the way across the road and into the building.

Her apartment was a cosy, simple place, located on the ground floor of the building. Greg tried not to go into CSI mode, thinking of how ground floor buildings were always more prone to robberies and murders. Instead he inhaled the scents of home baking and made the usual polite pleasantries that you do when invited into someone’s home. The room sparkled with Christmas decorations and hummed with the low sounds of hymns on an old record player.

“Please, sit down.”

The old woman indicated to a comfortable looking armchair, and Greg sank gratefully into it, shrugging out of his jacket.

“Thank you, Mrs…,” he stalled, realising he didn’t even know the woman’s name.

“Miss.,“ she corrected him. “Miss Bell. But you must call me Clarissa, please.”

“OK, Clarissa, thank you for your concern, but I’m fine, really. The car didn’t even touch me.”

“That may be, but you got an awful shock,” she replied with a nod. “Look at you; you’re as white as a sheet! Take five minutes to catch your breath and I’ll make a nice cup of tea. I would hate to let you be on your way only to have a delayed reaction and be all alone when the shock hits you. Stay long enough for some tea, and then I won‘t spend the rest of the night worrying about you.”

With that she disappeared into her kitchen, her argument won.

Greg smiled at the old lady’s persistence. It looked like it would be easier to accept the hospitality than to try and fight against it. Besides, it was nice to be looked after like that for a change. While he was waiting for Clarissa to finish in the kitchen a large bundle of white fur dropped into his lap from above, meowing loudly to announce his arrival.

Greg looked over his shoulder and noticed a cat tree behind him, where the animal had obviously been lurking, trying to decide whether to join the party. “Hello puss,” he grinned, tickling the fat cat behind the ear. The cat took an immediate liking to him and curled itself up in Greg’s lap, purring contentedly.

“I see you’ve met Snowball,” Clarissa laughed as she shuffled back into the living room, a silver tray in her hands containing two cups of steaming tea and a plate of freshly baked cookies. Chocolate chip, Greg noticed; his favourite.

“You’re privileged, he normally doesn’t take to strangers,” she continued as she set the tray on the coffee table.

Greg reached across and took one of the offered cups, taking a small sip. He grimaced slightly at the unexpected taste, covering his rudeness with a fake cough.

“Nip of brandy in there, and plenty of sugar,” Clarissa nodded matter-of-factly. “It will help with the shock.”

“Oh, I really shouldn’t be drinking before work…,” Greg began, but Clarissa hushed him with a flick of her hand. Realising he was fighting a losing battle, he took a long drink of the tea and a bite out of one of the delicious cookies, hoping the food would help soak up the brandy. With some quick calculations in his head he worked out that the walk to work should burn off the alcohol and he’d be fine by the time his shift actually started.

“So, Greg, tell me,” Clarissa sat forward, her own teacup resting on a bony knee, “were you really trying to get yourself killed out there?”

Greg spluttered a mouthful of tea over himself at the probing question. He certainly wasn’t expecting that! “No….. no,” he shook his head. “It was an accident, really…but….”

He couldn’t believe he was about to say something so personal to a stranger, but he felt so warm and comforted in the peace of Clarissa’s living room and Snowball’s gentle purring was almost hypnotic. He felt himself opening up to the kindly old woman, saying something that he‘d barely been able to comprehend himself. It was the first time he‘d found a voice for his innermost concerns.

“It’s more like…. Do you ever have one of those days when you wish you’d never been born?”

“We all have days like that from time to time,” Clarissa nodded understandingly, “but it doesn’t mean that it’s truly what we want. Something always comes along to make us glad to be alive again.” She looked almost wistful as she spoke, fingering the small gold cross around her neck.

Greg shifted further into the comfortable chair; the weight and warmth of the cat on his lap making him feel heavy and sleepy. “Well, mine has been more like one of those years than one of those days. Believe me,” he yawned, “I wish something good would come along. Lately it’s all been going wrong, and I’ve been feeling like no one would even miss me if I wasn’t here.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Clarissa soothed. “I’m sure you mean a lot to people. You should be careful what you wish for, you know.”

“Nope.” Greg yawned again, feeling suddenly overwhelmingly tired. “If I’m honest with myself, I wish I was never here.” The lure of sleep was calling to him, and he tried to sit up straighter in the chair, tried to keep his eyes open but the cat purred louder, the clock on the mantelpiece ticked in his ear, the hymns played sweetly and the alcohol making it’s way to his stomach was filling him with a comforting warmth. His eyes grew heavier, and Greg decided that he would close them for a second. Just a second.

“OK Greg,” he heard Clarissa whisper as the dark haze overcame him with one last thought trying to focus in his brain. How did Clarissa know his name? The concerns weren’t enough to stop him drifting away.

Greg’s eyelids fluttered and he let out a loud snore, loud enough to waken himself up. After a small whimper of regret that he’d wakened from a good dream, he opened his sleep-sticky eyes and let out a long yawn, stretching out the crick in his neck. For a moment he didn’t realise where he was, thought he was at home until he rubbed the bleariness from his vision and found himself staring into a pair of warm, curious green eyes. Snowball.

“Crap!” Greg cried out, making the cat flinch and leave its position on the coffee table with a squeal. He was still in Clarissa’s apartment; he must have fallen asleep in her armchair! Scrabbling out of it, he looked around to see if the old lady was there. “Clarissa?” he called out, but the apartment was silent, apart from Snowball’s questioning meows. Maybe she’d left him sleeping and gone to bed, not wanting to disturb him. Talk about an awkward situation, waking up in some strange old lady’s house. He didn’t know if he should go and try to find her, or write her a note…. or what.

He looked at his watch and realised he’d been asleep for at least four hours. No time for any of those options, he’d just have to make a run for it and hope he wouldn‘t appear rude. “Nick is going to kill me,” he groaned as he pulled his jacket on, gave Snowball one last scratch behind the ear and slipped quietly out of the apartment, closing the door softly behind him and making sure it locked tight. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for letting someone get into the lady’s home while she slept.

He figured the first thing he should do was to call Nick and explain what had happened. He knew that he was the last person Nick probably wanted to talk to, but the other man was probably fuming at Greg not turning up for work without giving a reason. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, but it wasn’t there. “Damn, must have forgotten to take it off the charger,” he sighed. This was not his day.

As he was still closer to home than to the crime lab he decided to head back there, call Nick and then see if he could get a cab into work. He started walking back the way he came, taking great care to check that the crossing sign was reading ‘walk’ before making his way across the road. No need to take any chances.

As he walked, he ran his meeting with Clarissa through his head, trying to work out how she knew who he was. He must have told her his name at some point without realising it, which was the only explanation. He had probably been in shock, looking back on it. After all he had nearly been mown down by some idiot in a fast car. OK, so that was slightly of his own making, but still. Of course he hadn’t been thinking straight when he‘d gone into Clarissa‘s apartment. And the old lady had shown him nothing but kindness, with her tea and cookies and warm welcome. She hadn’t harmed him in any way, he was still in one piece, how could he think she had any sinister motives for taking him in? He was getting paranoid. Probably a side-effect of being a CSI, questioning the reasons behind everything.

Rounding the corner into the road they lived on, he reached into his other pocket where he kept his keys…. and felt nothing but the lining of his jacket.

“I don’t believe this!” he cried in frustration. Not only had he forgotten his phone, now he’d forgotten his damn keys! And he could have sworn he’d put them in his pocket before leaving the house. Perhaps they had fallen out of his pocket at the crossing when the driver had grabbed him by the front of his jacket. Whatever had happened to them, he didn’t have them now.

He headed up to the front door anyway and tried the handle on the off chance that he’d forgotten to lock it when he left. Anything was possible in his muddled mindset. He tried to wiggle the handle harder, but the latch was firmly shut. He groaned and stepped away from the door again, not quite believing how unlucky he could be.

The curtains on the living room window were parted slightly and Greg cast a glance through the window as he walked past. The house was bathed in darkness and the interior of the room couldn‘t be seen. It took Greg a second to realise that the room was way darker than it should be. The soft blue hue of his aquarium usually cast a gentle glow through the gloom, but there was no sign of it, and Greg knew that he hadn’t turned it off because that would also turn off the oxygen pump and kill the fish. He’d even set up a back-up battery in case of power failure. The light should be on.

There was only one explanation for it. Nick had come home at some point and had already started moving Greg’s stuff out. The aquarium must be in another room, ready for Greg to take away as soon as he found a new place. They’d only just had the argument that night and already Nick was phasing Greg out of his life. He obviously wasn’t wasting any time. Maybe he’d been planning something like this for a while, and it had just taken Greg’s doubts to make him finally act.

“Nick, you son of a bitch,” he fumed, and set off at a marching pace towards the crime lab to have it out with him.

~~~

Greg vigorously wrenched the door of the crime lab open, the force of it almost pulling his shoulder from its socket, but in his frustration and anger he barely noticed the pain. Skilfully avoiding the Christmas tree that had been placed in the foyer, he made his way towards Grissom’s office, where Nick had set himself up in Grissom’s absence. He knew that Nick was going to be angry at him for turning up to work late without calling in, but that was nothing compared to the way Greg was feeling. Part of him hoped that Nick wouldn’t be there and that he wouldn’t have to deal with him, but part of him wanted the confrontation, wanted to make sure Nick knew what a mistake he was making. The inner conflict was making his head hurt. He reached the office, with bated breath, waiting to see if he would get his argument or not.

The room turned out to be empty and he realised, much to his surprise, that he was relieved. Maybe some time apart from Nick would ease the severity of his anger and enable him to talk to Nick with a balanced mind, he reasoned. Letting out the breath he‘d been holding, he backtracked down the corridor and headed for the break room to see if anyone else from the team was about, and to apologise for being late. The first person he saw was Catherine, who was also walking towards the break room a few steps ahead of Greg. She was swinging an empty coffee cup, her strawberry blonde hair shining under the fluorescent lights.

“Catherine!” Greg called and quickened his steps to try and catch up with her.

She stopped, turned to face him and smiled. “Yes? Can I help you?” Her glasses were hanging around her neck on a chain and she fingered them with her free hand as she waited for Greg to speak.

“Sorry I’m late, I’ve been having a nightmare of an evening,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes, “but I’m here now, so do I have any cases? I went to the office but there was no one there, so I figured everyone else has already gone out.”

Catherine’s brow furrowed and she looked at him, confusion written across her face. “I’m sorry, forgive me. I’m usually so good with faces…. Do I know you?”

~~~

Greg raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Cath…,” he laughed nervously, “what the hell? Greg. Hellooooo.” He waved his hand across her face, causing her to flinch slightly, but she maintained her distant air.

“Oh, I get it,” Greg reasoned, “Nick’s told you about what happened tonight, told you his side of the story? And of course you believed every word he said without a doubt, so now I’m persona non grata, is that right?” He noticed Catherine’s face darken at the mention of Nick’s name, but she recovered quickly.

“Right?“ he repeated.

“Listen,” Catherine began, taking a step backwards, “I’m too busy to be dealing with you tonight, whoever you are. You get two choices, you can leave now or I get security to haul your ass out of here.”

Greg ran his hands over his head, yanking at his hair in frustration. “Look, I don’t know what sort of immature game you and Nick have cooked up, but I’m really not in the mood. I’ve had the day from hell and so far the night’s not going much better,” he said, his voice roughened with indignation. “So just….. Help me out here. Please?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” she said stiffly.

Spotting movement out of the corner of his eye, Greg turned to see Grissom walking down the corridor towards them.

“Is everything OK here?” he asked, stepping in front of Catherine in an almost protective stance.

Greg regarded his supervisor, surprised to see him there, knowing he wasn‘t supposed to be returning to work until the New Year. His face was pale and lined and he looked exhausted.

“Grissom, what are you doing back so soon?” Greg asked, hoping that he, at least, would be above Nick’s petty games and would speak to him.

“What can I do for you?” Grissom asked, ignoring the question. Catherine rolled her eyes at Greg before continuing her walk to the break room.

Greg raised his eyebrows at her strange behaviour, but tried to shrug it off. “I’m just wondering if you need me for anything. I’m sorry I was late tonight, it’s a long story but hey, I’m here now.” He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and waited to find out if there was a case for him to work.

Grissom stared at him over the top of his glasses for a minute, as if contemplating something. Finally he spoke.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise that Conrad had started interviewing yet, let alone hired someone. He really should have told me. Let me introduce myself properly, although Conrad’s obviously told you who I am already.” He stuck his hand out for Greg to take. “I’m Gil Grissom, I’ll be your supervisor on graveyard. I’ll find someone to show you around and then I’ll have a word with you in my office.”

Greg laughed out loud. “OK, either Nick’s really trash talked me tonight or you’re all on an acid trip or something.” He opened his jacket to show his ID badge. “Look, I’ve worked here for years, remember?”

Grissom looked down at the exposed shirt with a frown. Greg followed the other man’s line of vision and realised that his badge, which he was positive he clipped onto his shirt before leaving for work, was missing.

“You really shouldn’t be in here without ID,” Grissom said stiffly.

“Oh, come on Gris,” Greg huffed, “why are you acting like this? Hey, did you have another fall-out with Sara or something? Is that why you’re back in Vegas so soon? If so, don’t take it out on me, OK?”

Grissom’s annoyed look was instantly replaced with a mix of anger and despair, then he struggled to reign in his emotions, never being one to wear his heart on his sleeve. A blank look descended upon him, his eyes unreadable.

“How dare you speak to me like that,” he said in a controlled whisper, pointing at Greg accusingly. “How can you say her name when you never knew her? Sara was one of the best CSIs I’ve ever worked with. Conrad can’t just replace her just like that, with the first young pretender that comes along.” He snapped his fingers loudly to illiterate his point. “She gave her life for this job, in case no one informed you of that. If you’re going to work here, be sure to know that you’re never going to be able to fill her shoes.”

Greg’s head began to spin. What the hell was Grissom going on about? “Grissom…,” he began, “Sara just emailed me yesterday, she’s fine.”

“I’m talking about Sara Sidle, she died,” Grissom repeated hoarsely “a few months ago, in a kidnapping attempt.”

“But Nick found her, she recovered…She left Vegas, yeah, but she was OK…,” Greg tried to explain, but Grissom was lost in his own words.

“It’s her job you’re taking. Go and find Conrad Ecklie, he’ll get you started because I don’t want to deal with you right now.” With that, he turned and walked towards his office, leaving Greg standing alone.

“This joke has got seriously messed up,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what the hell everyone is playing at, but I’m going to find out.” He set off again to look for Nick, but instead ran into Warrick, who was staring remorsefully at the wall at the end of the corridor.

“Hey Warrick,” he called out as he passed him. Warrick turned and gave him a nod, but didn’t speak.

Greg continued back towards the reception desk. He’d just remembered that he promised to call Stanley Tanner to wish him a merry Christmas and by his calculations it would be about 8:30 am on Christmas morning in Tennessee. Even though it was the last thing he felt like doing, he knew that Nick had made that promise on his behalf. As there was no one on reception, he slipped behind the desk, picked up the phone and began to dial Stanley’s number. After dealing with everyone else’s crap all night it would be nice to hear a friendly voice, he thought to himself. The phone rang and rang, and Greg was just about to put down the handset when it finally picked up.

“Hello?” a female voice answered.

“Hey, could I speak to Stanley Tanner please?”

“Who is this?”

“Oh, sorry, it’s Greg Sanders; I’m just ringing to wish Stanley a merry Christmas.”

There was no reply on the other side, just the sound of soft breaths being taken. Finally the woman spoke again, her voice low and shaky.

“Is this some sort of joke?”

“No,” Greg frowned, “I’m a friend of his. I do have the right number, don’t I?“

“Yes.”

“He left me a message, asking me to call him. So may I speak to him?”

“It can’t have been him who called you,” the woman replied. “I’m afraid Stanley is currently in Sevenview Hospice. He has been for over a year now. I‘m sorry, I thought all his friends had been informed.”

“No, that’s not possible,” Greg gasped. “He’s fine, I saw him recently. What…. What happened?”

“He was on holiday in Vegas and he was attacked by a gang of youths,” the woman explained, telling Greg what he already knew. “His injuries were so severe… he suffered massive head trauma, leaving him brain damaged. The police think he was beaten with a rock before being left for dead.”

“No, I stopped that,” Greg interjected. He’d gotten there in time, he’d saved Stanley. He’d taken a life to do so. “We got them.”

“The people who did it were never caught,” the woman was sobbing into the phone now. “He doesn’t even know who I am anymore.” With that harsh truth ringing in his ears, the phone went dead.

“No!” Greg cried out. “I saved him! What the hell is happening to me?” He dropped to his knees, feeling suddenly faint. He felt the hard wood of the desk against his shoulders and he leaned back against it, his head hitting the surface with a thump, but he didn’t even notice the pain. Gasping for air, he sat there for a time, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Every fibre of his being was telling him that none of this could be actually happening. Perhaps he was sick! Perhaps he was hallucinating all of this, and he was actually home in bed with a concerned Nick hovering beside him, sponging his feverish body down with a cool cloth. Or perhaps he was dreaming, inventing this strange world in his subconscious. Perhaps.....

“Hey buddy, you OK?”

Greg glanced up to see a worried looking Warrick staring down at him. “Warrick, man, I think I’ve had a stroke or something. I‘m freaking out here.” He climbed to his feet, using Warrick’s outstretched hand to heave himself up. “My head is totally messed up. Either that or I’m having one hell of a nightmare. Which I totally need to wake up from.”

“Come on, lets get you some water,” Warrick said soothingly, leading him back towards the break room.

“Is Nick still here?” he asked, putting a hand up to his swimming head. “I really need to see him, I need talk to him. If I can just see Nick then I know that I can make all of this OK again.”

Warrick stopped suddenly, dropping his hand from Greg’s shoulder. “Nick? Nick Stokes?”

“Yeah,” Greg nodded, “you know, about this tall, Texan, dark hair..... Come on, help me out?”

He waved his hand in the air in an indication of Nick’s height, hoping that being straightforward and slightly cute with Warrick might make the other man think twice about taking part in the cruel trick that was obviously being played with him. If it turned out that he was actually awake.

“I‘ve been trying to find him for ages but no one will tell me where he is. Everyone‘s suddenly turned into five year olds and are taking his side. If I could tell my side of the story then maybe things would be different, but no, everyone‘s ignoring me,” he babbled. “No, not just ignoring me, they’re pretending they don‘t even know me.”

“You knew Nick?” Warrick said in an almost-whisper. “That explains how you know my name, I guess. “

“What do you mean knew?” Greg asked, picking up on the other man’s use of past tense. “Is he really that mad at me that he’s pretending I don’t exist as well?”

“Oh God, you obviously haven’t heard,” Warrick sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. “There was… an incident… almost three years ago now. I’m afraid Nick died.”

“OK, not you too!” Greg fumed. “I’ve just had Grissom playing mind games with me about Sara, and now you? It’s all pretty sick! It‘s Christmas day, remember? Just show me where Nick is!”

Warrick regarded Greg for a few moments. Then his shoulders sagged, and he nodded. “OK. Come with me.”

They continued down the corridor until they reached the spot where Greg had seen him standing earlier.

“There you go,” Warrick pointed up to some gold plaques on the wall. The first one read ‘In memory of Sara Sidle’ and was obviously new; by the way it gleamed in the overhead lighting. Beside that was an older, slightly duller plaque. This one read ‘In memory of Nick Stokes’.

Greg felt his legs grow weak beneath him. “No…,” he stammered, pressing his fingers against Nick’s plaque.

“I’m sorry that you had to find out this way,” Warrick sighed, putting the comforting hand back on his shoulder. “I thought all of Nick’s friends had been told. I’m sorry, I just realised I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Greg,” Greg replied, too distraught about seeing Nick’s name up there to think about the fact that Warrick didn’t know him either.

“Greg,” Warrick nodded, as if mentally storing the information. “Someone took Nick, they buried him underground. We tried our hardest to find him, but we were just …. We were too late.”

“You mean… he suffocated?” Greg asked, remembering the horrible events of Nick’s kidnapping. But they had found him in time; he’d helped with the rescue, helped find where Walter Gordon had stashed him.

Warrick’s eyes dropped. “No…. we got to the place where he was buried, we found the grave but before we could start digging, we heard a gunshot from under our feet. He took his own life. Had we been just a few minutes earlier, we would have saved him. But it took us too long to pinpoint his location. I don’t think we’ve ever forgiven ourselves.”

Greg looked deep into Warrick’s eyes for any signs that he was lying, but all he saw was sadness and sincerity. He felt his stomach heave and rushed to the nearby bathroom, just making it into a stall before vomiting into the toilet. He could hear Warrick come in behind him and kneel down, then he was handed a paper towel which he took gratefully, wiping the mess off his chin.

Warrick flushed the toilet and then helped Greg to his feet.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe it,” Greg shook his head. “I won’t believe it. I refuse to! I saw Nick yesterday, everything was normal. You don’t just wake up to find your entire world has changed without any explanations why! It‘s not possible!”

He pushed past the other man and stormed out into the corridor again.

“I’m dreaming. I’ve got to be dreaming this,” he pleaded. “I’ve got to go home, so I can wake up in my own bed and everything will be back to normal and this nightmare will be over. None of this is real, do you hear me? None of it!” he yelled at a concerned Warrick before taking off at a sprint, trying to get home as quickly as possible.

~~~

He ran the two miles home as quickly as his shaky legs would take him. The thick, polluted Vegas air burned his lungs as he pumped his arms harder, trying to keep up a good speed. Finally he reached the road he and Nick lived on, gasping for breath as he tried the door handle. Remembering that he had no keys, he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around his right hand. Turning his face away, he punched through one the small panes of glass in the door, then reached in and turned the lock from the inside.

The door opened and he stepped into the hallway, only to be greeted by an angry looking man coming down the stairs dressed only in his boxer shorts. A terrified woman in a nightgown was cowering behind him.

“Call the cops!” the man shouted to the woman as he waved a baseball bat at Greg. “Think you can break into my house for drug money, you son of a bitch?” he screamed, taking a swing.

“This is my house!” Greg retorted. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Are you drunk?” the man asked, snarling. Greg could see the woman speaking into her cell phone, obviously talking to LVPD.

“Look, I’m LVPD myself,” Greg said, attempting to calm the situation. “This is my house.”

“We’ve lived in this house for over a year!” The man took another swing at Greg with the bat, just missing his head by a mere inch and making contact with left arm, just below his shoulder.

Greg decided that this wasn’t the best time to argue, so he took off running, hoping that the man didn’t get a good enough look at him in the dim light of the dawn to give the police an accurate description. The last thing he needed was to get picked up with no ID, dream or no dream. Although he had to admit that reasoning was growing less likely by the minute. The pain in his arm was all too real. Weren’t you supposed to wake up when you got hurt in a dream?

He ran until he realised he was back at the spot where he’d almost been run over at the crossing. Looking across to the building where Clarissa lived, he decided to take a chance and see if the old woman could help him. He made his way into the foyer of the apartment building and knocked on Clarissa’s door, not caring how early in the morning it was.

“Clarissa!” he yelled. “It’s Greg, the guy you helped last night. Can you please let me in?”

It took a couple of minutes, but finally the door opened a crack and Greg could see the old lady’s eyes peering at him.

“Clarissa, you remember me, right? I was just here last night. Please tell me you remember me.”

The door opened further and Clarissa stepped aside to allow Greg into her apartment. When he looked around he realised the cosy living room he’d been in just hours earlier was gone. He was standing in an empty white room, all the furniture, the record player, Snowball’s cat tree... it had all disappeared. In their place was a strange white glow.

He snapped his head around so quickly that his neck cracked. Clarissa was staring at him, Snowball tucked safely in her arms.

“What....?” Greg couldn’t find the words to ask her what was happening.

Clarissa bumped the door closed with her back and walked towards him. “I expect you’re very confused by now, Greg.”

“Understatement of the year,” Greg muttered under his breath.

“Do you remember what you said to me last night?” she continued. “You said you wished you’d never been born. Well, your wish was granted. Greg Sanders never existed. What do you think of a world without you in it?”

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” Greg’s head swam with confusion. “None of this is possible!“

Clarissa stooped to let Snowball jump out of her arms. When she straightened up again, her face had taken on a serene glow. “Young Greg,” she smiled, “anything is possible. You thought that your life was worthless, you thought you didn’t matter to anyone, that your life had no meaning, no consequence. So I had to show you what a world without you would have been like.”

Greg sank to the floor, leaning back on his heels. He stared up at Clarissa with tears in his eyes. “Nick is dead,” he said. It wasn’t a question, it was a realisation.

Clarissa nodded. “You helped to find him that night, but in this world you weren’t there to find his location in time. And so he wasn’t there to find Sara in the desert. She died before help came. As did that little girl he saved, Cassie McBride. The police found her body at the side of the lake, it was too late to do anything to save her. Every person he has helped since that night he was saved from that grave… And you, of course, you weren’t there to intervene and save Stanley Tanner from that beating. Every person you have helped in your lifetime has gone without. Every life has meaning, Greg, you have touched so many. Removing you from people’s lives has had more repercussions than you could ever realise.”

Greg was crying openly now. What had he done? Everyone he loved had been affected in some way, and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t even exist! He was nothing. He’d thought he was worthless…. well now…. now he truly was.

“Oh God,” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to cause all this.”

He got to his feet and clung pathetically to Clarissa’s dress, “I don’t want this!” he implored, “I don’t, I don’t!”

“I’m sorry,” she looked genuinely upset by Greg’s plight and ran a soothing hand across his back, “I really am. But this is not in my hands now.”

“Please send me back,” he pleaded, “please, I wanna go back! I want to be alive, I want to see Nick. I want to live! Please!”

“You’ve learned your lesson the hard way,” the old lady whispered. All around her, the façade of her living room started to appear around them, shimmering and misty, like a reflection in water.

“Please give me my life back!” Greg cried as Clarissa led him towards the old armchair which had solidified and was now ‘real’. His legs gave way and he tumbled into the soft chair, all the while begging to see Nick again, to be back in his old life.

~~~

The sound of a car horn blaring made him snap his eyes open with a start. He looked down to find himself standing in the middle of the road, a silver Ford Cougar stopped inches away from his knees, its angry driver climbing out to confront him. The same angry driver from earlier.

“What the hell?” the guy cried, saliva flying from his mouth as he lunged towards Greg. “You trying to get yourself killed, you jackass?”

It was like an instant replay of what had happened before. Greg let the guy grab him by the front of his jacket, making sure he felt real, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Excuse me?” he asked dumbly, looking around. Everything seemed the same as when this had happened before and sure enough the same little old lady was approaching from her apartment across the road.

“Well, do you have anything to say to me,” the guy fumed, pulling so hard on Greg’s jacket that it opened, revealing his CSI LVPD identity badge, “Greg Sanders?” he read. “Hey, are you some kind of cop?” he asked, taking a step back as he realised he could be the one in trouble.

Greg looked down at his badge, ripping it from his shirt and staring at it. “It’s me,” he gasped in wonder, patting his chest with his free hand, rummaging into his pockets and feeling the reassuring clink of his keys and cell phone. “I’m here. I’m real,” he whispered, his voice echoing with sheer disbelief.

“Is there a problem here, young man? Is everything alright?” the old lady asked when she finally reached them, as if she’d never met Greg before. “I heard the horn from my apartment, I was worried there’d been an accident.”

“No accident Ma’am,” Greg shook his head and turned to the driver, who was looking concerned, “and no harm done, right?”

“Right. Sure,” He held up his hands to show that he wasn’t going to cause any trouble.

“Well, in that case I’ll be on my way, it’s cold out here. You could catch your death if your not careful.” The old woman gave them both one last smile and shuffled back across the road to her home.

“And I do have something to say to you,” Greg said, holding his hand out in an offered handshake, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” the man nodded, shaking his hand with a look of confusion and slight relief that he wasn’t being arrested on his face. Then he climbed back into his car and drove away, a little slower this time.

Greg checked his watch. It had only been ten minutes since he’d left the house for work. He had absolutely no idea what the hell had just happened to him, it must have been some sort of breakdown due to stress or something. He had no real explanation for it, but he was here, everything was as it should be, none of that awful stuff had actually happened. He was alive and well and…. Oh God, Nick!

Greg stepped to the side of the road, dug out his cell phone and punched in Nick’s speed dial. As he did so, fat wet snowflakes started to drift down from the sky, clinging to Greg’s eyelashes and hair. He looked up and grinned at the snow as he put the phone to his ear, willing Nick to answer. He picked up after three rings.

“Nick!” he gasped, “It’s so good to hear your voice, you have no idea.”

“Are you OK Greg? You sound strange,“ Nick asked, his concern obviously overriding his anger from earlier.

“I’m fine Nick. I’m fine. Well, apart from a minor psychotic break a few minutes ago. Listen, where are you?”

“I’m in the office at work, why?” Nick sounded seriously confused.

“Don’t move, I really need to see you and speak to you.”

“OK. Look Greg, are you sure you’re alright?” Nick repeated.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am, for some reason I feel… I feel fantastic. I’ll be with you as soon as humanly possible, sit tight!”

He hung up and punched Sara’s number into his phone. She took a lot longer to answer than Nick had and when she finally did she was out of breath.

“Sara! Sara, hey!”

“Greg, what the hell? It’s so late!” she panted.

“Oh sorry, were you asleep?”

“Um… no.”

“Oh. Oh!” Greg snickered as realisation hit him. “Glad you two patched things up! Merry Christmas! I’ll leave you to it!” He hung up with a shake of his head, grinning, then took off running towards the crime lab.

“Merry Christmas!” he yelled to those who were still out and about on the streets. They looked at him like he was crazy, this young man running through the snow with a stupid grin on his face but he didn’t care. Whatever that hallucination or whatever had been, it had given him a horrible insight to what life without Nick might be like and he knew he didn’t want that for anything in the world. He had to make sure that Nick knew how much he meant to him.

The crime lab came into view around the corner, so he put an extra pump into his legs to get there quicker. He saw Nick appear at the front door to meet him and he launched himself into his arms, laughing wildly.

“What the hell, Greg?” Nick held him out at arms length to look him up and down. “Are you drunk?”

“No, no,” Greg shook his head, “but I wanted to tell you that I am so sorry about what I said earlier. I love you so much, I don’t want us to take a break, I don’t want us to split up! I’m not tired of you, I can‘t get enough of you. Yes, I’ve been unhappy, but that’s been my own fault, I’ve allowed myself to get into a rut and it’s been nothing to do with you. This is something I’ve got to fix for myself, but I’d love it very much if you’d be with me when I do it.”

Nick sighed and licked his tongue across his lip like he always did when he was thinking. “What’s brought on this sudden change of heart? Earlier you thought everything in the world was out to get you and now….”

“I’ve had a chance to think about what life would be like without you,” Greg explained. “It’s not worth living. I love you Nick. Please give me another chance. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

“Come inside,” Nick insisted, putting his arms protectively around Greg, “it’s freezing out here.”

~~~

They’d talked it all over as soon as they’d got home and Greg was relieved to discover that Nick had already been having second thoughts about the break-up. They were lying on the living room floor after a leisurely breakfast of croissants, coffee and orange juice and after Greg had enjoyed a long conversation with Stanley Tanner which had ended in the promise of a visit in the near future.

“So I’m going to finish my book and actually try and get it published and I’m thinking of maybe doing some lecturing.” Greg explained. “Although I was glad to get out of the DNA lab, sometimes I miss using my expertise.”

“That’s great Greg.” Nick nodded, caressing his face gently. “I’m really pleased you’re starting to feel better about things.”

“It’s been a strange night,” Greg admitted, “I had something of an.. epiphany, I guess. It was weird, but then my brain has always been a bit weird.”

“Hey, I like your brain,” Nick grinned, leading in for a kiss.

“The big one or the small one?” Greg quipped.

“Actually, I’ve got one more Christmas present for you,” Nick laughed, reaching behind the couch and coming back with a small box. Greg eagerly tore into it, revealing two ornate silver rings. “They’re commitment rings. I’ve been planning it for a while… of course I didn’t expect what happened last night, but….”

“Yes,” Greg interrupted him without even taking time to breathe.

“Seriously?” Nick grinned.

“Couldn’t be more serious.”

Nick pounced on him and wrestled him to the ground, kissing and biting at him, with Greg yelping and giggling beneath him. “I’m taking you to bed,” he growled as he tugged Greg’s shirt off.

“Ouch!” Greg cried out suddenly as Nick grabbed his left arm.

“Baby, you OK?” Nick asked, his face lined with concern, scared that he‘d hurt Greg somehow.

“Yeah, I just…. damn, that‘s really fricking sore.” Together they peeled Greg’s shirt off the rest of the way, revealing an angry black bruise across his arm, just below his shoulder.

“Oh my God, how did you do this?” Nick checked the bruise carefully. “Greg, it looks like someone went at you with a baseball bat, what the hell happened to you last night?”

Baseball bat…. Baseball bat…..the man! The man in his house! That had been real? That had been REAL!

“Greg, are you OK? You look like you’re about to pass out!”

“No, I’m fine, I’m OK,” he promised, trying to fathom how that whole experience could have actually happened. Suddenly a warm breeze blew through their living room, even though all the windows and doors were shut and it was freezing outside. Greg felt it surround him for a few moment before it passed by, ruffling the branches on their Christmas tree. At the top of the tree, a tiny bell rang.

At that moment Greg was filled with a sense of understanding. Taking Nick’s hand, he led him to bed. “Thanks Clarissa,” he smiled towards the ceiling, “Merry Christmas.”

THE END

In case you're unfamiliar with the original film, (where have you been living, Mars?) and want a little extra info on 'It's a wonderful life', I've included the wiki link here.