Title: It's Okay To Cry
By: lmd2010
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: No I still don't own CSI. Haven't you guys figured out I'm not going to suddenly own it if I snap my fingers? - suddenly gets an idea and sits madly snapping fingers - Nope, it doesn't work. Oh well, just read the story about people I don't own. Songs belongs to Frou Frou and Tim McGraw.
Summary: Greg comforts Nick. Thoughts about Grave Danger.

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Drink up baby down.

Mmm, are you in or are you out?

Leave your things behind,

'Cuz it's all going off without you.

'Scuze me, too busy,

You're writing your tragedy.

These mishaps, your bubble wrap, when,

You've no idea what you're like...

I still don't know how I got here. Okay that's a lie because I remember very well how I got here but I tend to forget. Why am I forgetting? Because my co-worker is sitting in front of me crying. He's got a pretty good reason if you ask me. Let me rewind.

Today was Nicks first day back at the lab. He just seemed… well different. There was no happy smile on his face. A smile was there but anyone with half a brain could see that it was fake. I was ready to go out and just give him a hug and never let him go but I decided he'd probably smack me or people would get the wrong impression.

Nick is a strong man, there's no doubt about it. Why he can't understand that even strong men cry is beyond me. I think it has something to do with his father and his brother. I have a feeling they used to ride him pretty hard to be the perfect son. To be the perfect jock with the perfect grades and the perfect friends and the overall perfect life. Well here's a heads up, nobody's perfect.

This job defiantly opens your eyes to that. I haven't been out of the lab that long and I still understand that. I've seen brothers kill brothers; mothers kill their kids and rich men kill poor people on the streets. Why? It's hard telling. It proves nobody's perfect. Everyone has their issues. Warrick has gambling, I have the lab blowing up and Nick… well Nick has too many things to count.

It all started with Kristy, the stripper Nick hooked up with. He was a murder suspect and that's got to make your trust a little off. To have some of your supposed friends turn on you can't be easy. Then there was that stupid stalker. He really messed with Nick's head. I would probably be in a mental institute if I realized someone had been living in my attic and watching me. That's just downright creepy. Then there's the coffin. Getting attacked on the job and put in a coffin kind of sums up Nicks life lately- really, really sucky.

So this is Nick's first night back and what happens? He gets a gun pulled on him. Nick, Warrick and I were at the scene when some spectator decided to pull a gun. My blood ran cold because I saw Nick's face. I saw the horror and how hard he was fighting against breaking down. He pain made me hurt and I wanted to help him, but I couldn't. Brass ended up taking the guy down and Nick was silent. He moved like a zombie, no emotion whatsoever. I was scared; scared he was going to do something he'd regret. So after shift I followed him to his house.

So let go

Mmm, jump in

Oh well whatcha waiting for?

It's alright,

'Cuz there's beauty

In the breakdown.

(So let go)

Yeah, let go

Just get in

Oh it's so amazing here.

It's alright,

'Cuz there's beauty

In the breakdown.

The Texan looked at me with a confused expression, "Whaddya doing here G?"

I looked at him and walked over with my hands in the pockets off my jeans and gave a little shrug, "Thought you might want to talk to someone."

There was no response but he unlocked the door and we both went inside. I'd only been inside this place once. He'd moved after the stalker incident. I didn't blame him. I moved to sit on the couch as Nick disappeared into the other room. He returned with two beers and handed one to me. I gave a silent nod of appreciation as I took it and sipped slowly. The alcohol was comforting.

Nick looked at me as he began to talk, "This whole thing today really bothered me. I've been so stressed out lately."
I listened silently. Realizing something I leaned forward, "You've never talked about the box have you."

There was no response for a moment then Nick shook his head from side to side. I let out a sigh as I watched him. He was trembling.

"Nicky you gotta let it out. You've got to cry and talk about it or this is going to eat you up."

"I can't Greg, why can't anyone understand that? I can't just cry. Men don't cry," he replied with a bit of edge to his voice.

"Since when do men not cry? Where did you hear that bullshit? Your father? Your brother?"

I knew I'd hit a point at the sharp inhale of breath. He looked at me and I stared right back. "Talk to me Nick."

I pulled into the shopping center

And saw a little boy wrapped around the legs of his mother.

Like ice cream melting, they embraced,

Years of bad decisions running down her face.

All mornin' I'd been thinking my life's so hard,

And they wore everything they owned, living in a car.

I wanted to tell 'em it would be okay,

But I just got in my Suburban and I drove away.

The Texan let out a shaky breath and nodded his head. "I was so scared that I wasn't going to get out of that box Greg. I thought I was going to die. I…" The words stopped as a tear fell down his cheek and I reached out to touch his arm. The gesture brought more tears and Nick began to sob softly. I pulled him to me and we just sat there. I don't know how long we just sat there with me making comforting sounds and Nick crying into my shoulder. When he finally pulled back I could see the toll this job took on him. I saw the wrinkles on his face and how worn his eyes looked. He gave me a watery smile.

"Thank you G," he whispered softly and I shook my head.

"I should have talked to you a lot sooner."

I left a half an hour later. I leaned against my truck and let out a shaky breath as I looked up to the sky and I felt the tears fall down my face.

And I don't know why they say grown men don't cry.

I don't know why they say grown men don't cry.

And I don't know why they say grown men don't cry.

I don't know why they say grown men don't cry, don't cry.

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