Title: Hung in a Bad Place
By: black_dahlia63
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Summary: Greg receives some news that could change his life, and Nick comes to terms with something he's been hiding. This was written for a Secret Santa fic exchange, and the wonderful catlover2x said that if I didn't cross post it she'd start pimping it herself. Enjoy!

The phone shrilled from its position on the nightstand, bringing a muffled cry of frustration from Greg as he reached a hand blindly from beneath the covers. Two days off, he told himself as he succeeded in grabbing the phone on his second try; two days off in a row, finally a chance to sleep in, and the one thing he'd forgotten to do was unplug the damn phone. "H'lo?" he mumbled sleepily, pressing the receiver to the side of his head with his eyes still closed. "Who is it?"

"Greg? Did I wake you up?"

"Jack!" he cried out, a smile spreading across his face as he recognised the voice; Jack was two years his senior, tall and blond with a New York accent he'd never been able to shift despite more than twenty years in Vegas, ascending at a fairly alarming rate through the echelons of the LVPD. Perpetually conflicting shifts had ended their five month relationship - the longest exclusive one Greg had ever been involved in - almost three months since, but the two of them had remained friends; there'd even been the odd night or two after the breakup when they'd found themselves in bed again as though nothing had happened - and as he thought of this now, Greg's smile widened. "No, you called at just the right time," he said, stretching lazily beneath the covers. "I have the next two days off and no plans, what shift are you on this week?"

"I need to tell you something," was the reply, and even coming across a bad connection the flat tone in which the words were delivered finally made Greg open his eyes. "Didn't want to do it like this, man, I owe you more than a phone call, but..." He broke off, and in the silence that followed Greg heard a muffled noise that could only be a sob. It was suddenly hard for him to swallow, because he'd never seen Jack cry, no matter what was thrown his way at work; this soft noise at the other end of the line told him that something must be badly wrong, and he felt tiny hairs rise on the back of his neck. "Jack?" he said quietly, clamping his fingers around the phone to keep them still. "What's happened? Look, let me get dressed, I'll get some coffee and come over so we can -" but he was interrupted before he could go on; lying in bed, the early morning sun leaking through the partly-open blinds, he listened to the words pouring into his ear and felt his life falling apart.

*******

He ran along the hallway, barely making it to the bathroom before the nausea became too much for him; hanging on to the sides of the toilet, he leaned over and retched until there was nothing left in his stomach. Gasping, he rose unsteadily to his feet as dry heaves rippled through him and made his gut clench; he stared into the mirror over the sink, taking in hair that was in sleep-matted clumps and eyes that were huge and dark against the colourless skin of his face - and as he was doing this, the buzzer sounded at his front door. He remained motionless, as though whoever was down in the lobby of the building would see him if he moved; the buzzer sounded a second time, then a third, and once it had stopped the phone rang again.

"G? It's me," a Southern-accented voice said once the answering machine kicked in. "Thought we were going running this morning," and the speaker cleared his throat. "I - uh - well, I guess you're not there, so I'll see you back at work in a couple of days. 'Bye." There was a click followed by a beep as the call ended, and after a long time Greg forced himself to move. He ran water into the sink, splashed it on his face and rinsed out his mouth; once he had done this, he walked back the way he had come - slowly, painstakingly, as if a lead weight was attached to each of his feet. The strength seemed to vanish from his body as he sank down onto the edge of his bed, hugging himself the way he did when he was cold; he stared blankly at the window that shielded him from a city where everything was still the same, a world he suddenly felt thousands of miles away from. His throat ached, an invisible band was slowly tightening round his chest, and he'd never wanted to cry so badly in his life - but he held the tears in, because he knew that once he started shedding them he wouldn't have the strength to stop.

************

"Will we see you for Christmas, Pancho? Your nieces and nephews missed you at Thanksgiving."

"Yes, I know, I missed them too," Nick said, detecting the gentle reproach in his father's voice. "I can swing three days off, and I'll need to be back at work the morning of the twenty seventh."

"You know, if you'd let me have a word with the right people down here..."

"Cisco, I know you want to help me," Nick said as he kicked off each of his boots in turn; this was familiar ground, revisited each time he had trouble spending a holiday at the ranch, and his responses to his father's words never varied. " But I want to get promoted because I deserve it, not because I'm working for someone who owes you a favour," and he heard a dry chuckle at the other end of the line that brought a lump to his throat - because there were other reasons why he'd moved to Vegas, reasons he'd never shared and that his father would never have guessed. "Shall I call you when I've booked my flight?"

"We'll look forward to it," was his father's immediate response. "Do you think you'll be bringing anybody with you?"

"I'll have to check," he replied, and as he spoke he was thinking about Linda. The two of them had been dating for almost eight weeks now, and he knew that her daughter was spending the holidays with her father this year; he supposed there was no reason why he couldn't ask her to come to Dallas with him, no reason why she wouldn't accept - except for the fact that he'd only be going through the motions again, and he wasn't sure he wanted to do it any longer.

But what alternative did he have?

"I'll speak to Lin and see what her schedule is over Christmas," he said. "I'll get back to you by the weekend, okay?"

"Take care of yourself, Pancho."

"Always," he said, and once he had hung up he walked out of his kitchen, pulling his T shirt over his head as he did so; he entered his bedroom, and the rest of his clothes were quickly discarded in a heap on the floor before he moved towards the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Ten minutes later, wearing shorts and a faded Dallas Cowboys T shirt, he left his apartment again to embark on a ritual that was part of his life every time he worked a night shift. "You do what?" Warrick had said when he'd found out. "You work all night and then you go running?" and while he hadn't added, "are you nuts?" the question had been clearly implied nonetheless - but Nick had merely laughed the reaction off, because he saw running in the same light as another man might see going to a bar after work. The farther he ran, the more distance he was able to put between himself and the memory of the things that the people of Las Vegas never seemed to tire of doing to each other; he would return home exhausted, but his stress would have been erased, and he would sleep soundly before returning to the lab for his next shift.

***********

He climbed out of his truck, which he'd parked by the side of the long-deserted airstrip where a drag racer had once been found dead, and he began his warm-up; as he went through the stretches and jogging to loosen himself up, he tried to tune out the shrieks of birds overhead and the sounds of traffic passing in the distance, but it took him a long time to manage it...

...because he was doing this alone for the first time in months.

"Hey, wait up!" a voice calls behind him as he's halfway across the parking lot outside the lab. "Want some company?"

"You couldn't keep up," he says, managing to smile. "When's the last time you ran for anything except a bus?"

"I'll give it a shot."

"You'll end up in hospital," he says, shaking his head resignedly. "Come on, Sanders, I hope your health insurance is paid up."

Nick had been right that first morning, and his companion had wound up limping around the lab for the best part of a week; but things had improved surprisingly quickly, and it hadn't been long before Greg was almost matching Nick's speed. They'd talked, become friends, and it was this that Nick was missing now; because while the two of them had been running, having coffee afterwards, becoming "Nick" and "G" instead of a CSI and a slightly annoying lab tech, he'd been able to believe that maybe...

...shaking his head, he stretched his right shoulder and held it while he counted to ten inside his head. This done, he flexed his arms, took a deep breath and let it out before beginning to run; and as he picked up speed, his feet thudding against the ground, it wasn't only work he was trying to leave behind.

************

Wednesday

There was a professional smile on Nick's face as he walked into work, but it was belied by the slight furrowing of his brow; he still hadn't been able to reach Greg, either by phone or the second visit he'd made to his apartment - and when he pushed open the lab door, the recriminations that had been hovering on his lips died before he could give them voice.

"Wait a second - where's Greg?"

"Don't know, sorry," was the reply from the redheaded girl with Harry Potter glasses. "They called me over from days," but Nick was already on his way down the hall.

"Grissom, what's happened to Greg?"

"He called in sick," Nick's boss said, not looking away from his computer screen as he spoke. "I need you and Catherine to go to the Bellagio, Nick, there's a DB in one of their executive suites."

"I should go see if he's all right, I've been trying -"

"It'll wait," was the mild response that still brooked no argument. "The guy's some big name French industrialist, we don't need the mayor on our asses right before Christmas," and Grissom looked up briefly. "Greg's a big boy, Nick, he'll crawl back in tomorrow night," he said, and the look in his eyes said that Greg had better do just that. "Make sure you and Catherine do this by the numbers, okay?"

"Got it," Nick said, and he turned to leave the room - but he couldn't help feeling as he did so that this was one time that his usually infallible boss had gotten it wrong.

*************

Thursday

The beginnings of a tension headache were threading through his temples as he parked his truck in one of the guest spots at the front of Greg's building; making his way into the lobby, he punched in the number of Greg's appartment, but once again there was no answer. He thrust a hand into his pocket, bringing out his cell phone and punching in a number; he waited, listening to it ring at the other end of the line, and he sighed inwardly when he heard the answering machine pick up.

"You've reached Greg, please leave a message and I'll call you back..."

"Look, G," he said wearily, running his free hand through his hair, "I know you're up there, and I don't know what the hell you're trying to pull, but you've got till the count of ten to buzz me in before I get hold of your super and make him use his pass key. One - two -" and before he could get any further there was a buzzing sound over the intercom. He pushed open the inner door and decided to forgo the elevator, where he had found himself stuck on more than one occasion; taking the stairs two at a time, he was on the third floor in a matter of minutes, and he had only knocked once on the door bearing the number 357 before it was opened as far as the safety chain would permit.

"See? I'm not dead - you can go home now," but the words didn't register as much as the appearance of the man speaking. Stubble had sprouted on Greg's cheeks and chin, and his hair was unkempt; but it was the drawn cast of his face, the eyes which were dark hollows, that made tiny hairs stand up on Nick's forearms. This isn't 'sick', he told himself, it's something else, and he got his foot in the door just before it was pulled shut.

"What's going on, man? I thought we were friends," he said quietly. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's happened."

"You can't help, Nick."

"You don't know that until you tell me," he persisted, slightly annoyed now despite his concern for the man in front of him. "Stop acting like this and let me in," and the words that came in response left him speechless.

"I've just found out that my ex boyfriend's been diagnosed HIV positive," Greg said, his voice dry and cracked. "Can you help with that?"

**********

He made two mugs of coffee and slid one across the kitchen table, watching as Greg picked it up and spilled most of it because his hands were shaking so much; he wanted to reach out, place a hand on the younger man's arm and tell him he wasn't alone, but something told him this wasn't the right thing to do no matter how much he might think so. "Was it Jack?" he asked eventually, the handful of words sticking in his throat as he recalled the tall blond man who'd picked Greg up after work on so many occasions, and there was a nod. "When did you find out?"

"He called me on Monday," Greg said, staring down into his mug. "Said I should - um - go and get myself tested."

"Have you done it yet?" Nick asked, but the haunted look in Greg's eyes was all the answer he needed. "Why not, G?"

"I - I just couldn't, okay?" and Greg lifted his head. "Suppose I've got it too?"

"Are you -" Nick broke off then, at a loss for words for what seemed far too long. "I mean, you were careful, right?"

"Careful?" Greg echoed, and the single word was followed by a bitter snort of laughter. "Yes, we were careful, we used something every single time," he went on, shaking his head as he stared across the table with eyes that were unnaturally bright. "See, I know you can't help me, because you don't understand," he said, his voice becoming tight and hoarse. "We might have used something every time we had sex, but you can't have a clue how I've felt sitting here for the last three days wondering if I brushed my teeth too hard and made my gums bleed before I went down on him - 'cause that's all it takes, Nick, a stupid thing like brushing your teeth too hard just once, have you got any idea what it's like to worry about that?" He fell silent then, unable to take his eyes off the stunned expression on the face of the man sitting opposite him; neither of them said anything for a long time, and then Greg swallowed down the ball of ice that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat. "Nick?" he said in a voice reduced to a whisper by fear of what was happening combined with shame at the way he'd spoken to someone he counted as a friend. "Nick, I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean to -"

"Don't worry about it," Nick said quietly, one hand clenched into a fist beneath the table in an effort to keep his voice even. "What time is it now? Almost eight? Get the Yellow Pages out, I know there's a clinic somewhere near here," and he fixed his eyes on Greg. "You're going to take the first appointment they've got this morning, and I'll go with you."

"You don't have to do this, Nick," Greg told him. "You don't..."

"Don't tell me what I don't understand," Nick interrupted, and something in his voice made it impossible for Greg to look him in the face. "Go take a shower and shave, I'll make us breakfast."

*********

Greg sat in the waiting room, the food he hadn't really wanted to eat at his apartment an hour earlier threatening to come back up at any moment as he stared at the clock on the wall and wondered how long it would take for his name to be called; turning his head, he saw Nick leaning back in his chair with his eyes shut and the year-old copy of GQ he'd been leafing through lying in his lap. He wanted to wake him up, to tell him they didn't really need to do this now, that they could just leave; straightening up, he reached out to touch Nick's shoulder, but before he could actually do it a voice said, "Which one of you is Greg?"

"Uh - me, ma'am," he said, something lurching sickeningly in his gut as he looked at the woman in pale blue scrubs with dark skin and hair set in cornrows; he pushed himself slowly to his feet, glancing at Nick who hadn't stirred.

"Is your friend -?"

"What? Oh, no," he said hastily. "He just came with me for..."

"To make sure you got here," was the cheerful reply. "You want to come with me?"

********

"Nick?"

"Huh?" he said, startled, and the magazine slid from his lap to the floor; Greg was standing in front of him, a cotton ball fastened to the inner surface of his right elbow with surgical tape. "Are you done?"

"Yeah," was the terse response. "Can we go?"

"You got it," he said, rising swiftly from his seat as his eyes took in the chalky whiteness of his friend's face. "Let's get you home."

**********

"You want some coffee?"

"I want a drink," Greg said as he let himself sink into one end of his battered couch. "You can go now if you want, Nick, I'm fine." The dull ache that had been at his core for three days now had doubled in its intensity, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry until it went away again; but he was grimly determined that he wouldn't do it in front of someone he worked with, someone who must surely be seeing him differently after all this. He reached for the remote and turned on the TV - and as he stared blankly at the screen, blinking rapidly as his vision blurred, the next thing Nick said seemed to come from a great distance.

"Two weeks, right? Is that when you have to go back for your results?"

"Yeah," he said dully, and then the tone of the words penetrated the fog in his head; he looked up, and something in Nick's eyes made him swallow hard. "Nick? Wait, how do you know that?"

"You're not the only one who's been there," was Nick's almost inaudible reply. "Don't tell me I don't know what it's like to have to sit and worry, G, because I do."

*********

"I think I always knew, even before I was old enough to be interested in girls," Nick said as the two of them sat at opposite ends of the couch not quite looking at each other. "I tried to pretend it wasn't happening, but every time I tried going out with a girl it just didn't feel right," and he sighed gently. "Still doesn't," he said, so quietly that Greg had to strain to hear the words. "But I do it anyway, because..." He fell silent, staring at a spot on the wall as he struggled to find the right words. "Mostly because I know how my dad would react if he knew - but I just think I've left it too late," and he broke off to knot his hands together in his lap. "I used to go to the bars when I moved out here, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do," he went on. "I wound up in this cheap motel room with some guy whose name I didn't know, and I...look, just forget it, okay?" he said, managing to smile even though it hurt him to do it. "I just wanted you to know I understand, that's all," and he stood up; he was completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, and he had no idea how he was going to be able to stay awake to drive home - but the last thing he wanted to do now was stay here and see pity in the eyes of someone who'd occupied a secret corner of his mind for more than three years.

"Nick -"

"Get some sleep, you need it," he said. "I'll call and make sure you're up for work tonight." He moved swiftly through the living room and out into the hallway before Greg could say anything else, and once he'd closed the front door behind him he let out the breath he'd unconsciously been holding in; something prickled behind his eyes, and he closed them until the sensation passed - but there was still a tightness in his chest, because he wanted to help Greg so badly, but he didn't know if he'd be able to do it.

************

Friday

"Wait up," a voice called behind him, and all of a sudden it was as though he'd gone back in time to that first morning. "Going without me?"

"You up to a run?" he said, his hands crammed in the pockets of his jeans; Greg's face was still pale and drawn, his eyes hollow, and Nick wondered whether the younger man had managed to sleep. "You don't look like you are."

"I don't want to go home by myself," Greg said, not quite meeting Nick's eyes. "I lay awake all day yesterday once you'd gone, Nick, I just..." He cleared his throat awkwardly, and there was a long silence before he spoke again. "Can we go and get coffee? Breakfast? I'll understand if you don't want to."

"Get in the truck," Nick told him, taking his keys from his pocket and unlocking the passenger door. He walked round to the driver's side and climbed in, turning the key in the ignition; this turned on the radio at the same time, filling the truck with country music, and while on previous occasions his passenger had always managed a smart-ass remark about it there was only silence as they left the parking lot now.

**********

"Who else knows?"

"What? About me?" Sensing that Greg probably didn't want to be around people, Nick had left him waiting outside the nearest fast food place while he went in and returned with a paper sack of food and two huge paper cups of coffee; the two of them had sat in the truck, Greg draining his coffee but hardly touching the food, and the younger man had been the one to finally break the silence.

"Yeah."

"Nobody," Nick said, gazing out into the parking lot as he spoke. "They don't need to," he added quietly. "If I can't figure things out myself..."

"What do you mean?"

"It's always been easy for you, G," Nick said, once he'd taken a gulp from his coffee. "You've got a family that's cool with you being gay, you've never had to hide what you are."

"Is this about what you said yesterday? Leaving it too late?"

"Yeah, it is," and Nick's words were followed by a sigh. "I don't want to go through a hundred one night stands trying to find what I'm looking for and then realise it wasn't even there to begin with."

"What are you looking for?"

"Oh, God," Nick said, and a shaky laugh escaped his lips. "You really want to know? Someone who won't mind never spending Thanksgiving and Christmas and birthdays with my family, because if my father ever knew I was gay I'd become the black sheep of the Stokes family like that." He paused, swallowing down more tepid coffee to buy himself time before he continued. "He'd have to realise he'd be starting right from the beginning with me, because I don't think two hours in a motel and ten minutes in the back of someone's car counts as a lot of experience, do you? I want someone who'd understand when I'd had a shitty day at work and just wanted him to hold me - how stupid does that sound?"

"Hey, try being a lab rat with lousy taste in music and ears that stick out," Greg replied, and although he was smiling the shadows were still in his eyes. "See how close to happy ever after that gets you," and he shoved his almost-untouched burger back into the paper sack. "You're not the only one settling for something you don't really want, Nick, don't you believe it," he said, trying and failing to ignore the little voice inside him that said less than two weeks now, and you might not be settling for anything any longer. "You want to drop me off at the lab so I can get my car? I need to get home and get some sleep."

"I'll drive you home," Nick said. "You're in no shape to get behind the wheel of that deathtrap of yours," and he was smiling as he turned the key in the ignition, even though the one secret he still kept was lying over his heart like a lead weight.

**********

Monday

"I know I haven't called like I said I would, Cisco, and I'm sorry - it's been mad here, you know? Christmas brings the crazies out, you know that - yes, I've booked a flight with America West, it'll get me into Dallas at twenty past three in the afternoon. The twenty fourth, yes. No, there won't be anyone with me. Okay, I'll see you on Christmas Eve - give mom my love. 'Bye."

**********

Thursday

He'd just pulled a double shift - a deal he'd made with Warrick in order to be able to get his third day off over Christmas - and while he could barely keep his eyes open, Nick knew he had to be here.

He'd offered to come into the clinic, but Greg had said no, I need to do this by myself; and so he sat in his truck in the parking lot, holding a takeout cup of coffee that had long since gone cold and wondering how long it took just to pick up some test results.

Unless it's positive.

Don't even think that, Nick.

He looked up, saw the door of the clinic open, and his heart lurched; all at once, everything seemed to slow to a crawl - the memory of the past two weeks, the relief he'd felt that someone understood how he felt, the realisation that no matter what the news was it didn't change how he felt

(and you still haven't told him)

then Greg was sprinting down the steps, yanking the passenger side door open and vaulting into the truck. "I'm all right," he said, the shadows gone from his eyes and the lines that worry had etched into his face during the previous fortnight magically erased. "I'm all right, Nick." They stared at each other without speaking, the cup of coffee dropping from Nick's hand; he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could find the words Greg had leaned forward and closed the distance between them. A day's worth of stubble scraped across the side of his face, and then their lips touched - the kiss over almost before it had begun, but still bringing with it the power to stop his heart.

"How long have you known?"

"Does it matter?" Greg asked, smiling even though his eyes were brimming with tears. "It's true, isn't it?"

"What do we do now?"

"You drive me back to my place, and I sleep for about a week," Greg said, fastening his seatbelt before turning towards Nick again. "And don't worry about Christmas, we can wait till next year for my folks to swamp you."

"Next year? How do you know -?"

"Call it a hunch," Greg said, and the second kiss lasted a lot longer. "And don't worry about the rest of it, Nick, you'll pick it up as you go along."