Title: Lost and Found
By: Dee
Rating: R
Word Count: In total: 137192
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes, and a few other familiar and unfamiliar faces along the way!
Warnings: AU and fluff!
Warnings 2: Reader beware: Discussions of child abuse later in story.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Unbeta-ed: All mistakes will be mine
A/N: The road to hell... I intended this fic to be an on-going year long fic in real time and I would up-date it at relevant times throughout the year, but that fell by the wayside when I couldn't stop writing it...so it's just an ordinary fic now!

***

Nick was trying to stop the ringing.  He banged the top of his alarm clock but that didn't stop it and almost immediately the ringing started to alternate with thuds.

He rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes; it was his front door...someone was obviously trying to batter down his front door and if he didn't get up they could well succeed.  He glanced at his clock as he heaved himself upright, four o'clock in the afternoon and he'd been in bed on Christmas Day for about three hours and he had to get up for work in another three hours.  He was pissed before he even got to his feet, whoever it was had better have a good excuse for waking him.

It was his first Christmas in Vegas for several years, because this year the family were congregating in New York for a New Year celebration with his oldest sister, Mary, who'd landed a new job, a new husband and a new grandchild in a matter of months.

The thuds of someone's fist against his door reverberated around his house as he walked across his living room.

He swung the door open just as a fist was about to hit it again...and his mouth fell open.

"Nick.  I'm really sorry to get you up...I knew you were here because Jim said you were working over Christmas.  I couldn't stay with...but he suggested you."

His old boss, Gil Grissom, stood there with a large suitcase and a duffel bag, if he'd arrived in a taxi it was gone.  Nick took in the sight and hadn't uttered a word.  Until it suddenly struck his sleep deprived brain.

"How about staying at your own home with your wife?"

"Ah.  Good question."   There was a short silence.

"Yes.  And?"

"My wife is in said home and we're...not talking.  Not to each other anyway; we talk via our lawyers."

"Really?  A hotel?  A motel?"  Nick didn't actually mean to be ungracious and unwelcoming but he was still half asleep and couldn't quite grasp the fact that Gil Grissom was standing on his door step.

"That's the main problem; I've lost my wallet, or it's been stolen.  In Rome, or even Newark, but I didn't discover the loss until McCarran.  Luckily, I still had my passport and cell phone, so I called Jim and he paid for the taxi over here with his credit card.  That's it...and I do need to call in about my lost cards."

He just stood there and admittedly he did look forlorn.  Nick suddenly realised his bad manners.

"Jesus.  Where are my manners?  Please, come on in and I'm sorry about being rude.  Man, I'm tired and just woke up from a deep sleep."  Nick saw Gil visibly relax and he looked at him more closely.  He looked older and dead beat; his hair was white already and definitely thinning on top.  Nick had never seen it so short.  He studied Gil as he walked past him, hauling the suitcase behind him; Nick thought about how long it had been since he'd last seen Gil.  It was very nearly two years, but he seemed about ten years older.

"If I could just use your sofa until I can get new cards that would be great, Nick."

"Sofa?  No way.  I have a spare room with the bed made up and you're welcome to stay as long as you want.  Look the kitchen's there and if you follow me..."  He pointed towards the kitchen, took charge of the large suitcase and carried it upstairs with Gil following him. "...that's the bathroom...all yours, I've got an en suite.  There are fresh towels already in there.  Make yourself at home, there's food and drink in the kitchen, but I've got to go back to bed."

"Nick.  Thank you.  I cannot begin to apologise for dropping in on you like this, but I couldn't think of anywhere to go...apart from Jim's.  You're very..."  He stopped taking as Nick was overcome with a yawn.  "Get to bed.  Don't worry about me."

"'K."  Nick was yawning again.  "See ya."

He went back to his bed and was settled and asleep within a few minutes.  When the alarm finally woke him, he groaned but then stretched.  Within half an hour he was running downstairs ready for work apart from a quick snack and making up some sandwiches for his break.  Gil Grissom...Gris was asleep on his sofa.  There was an empty plate and mug on the table in front of him and he was holding a sheaf of papers.  Nick had a pang of sympathy for him.  Whatever he'd expected to happen when he'd left the lab didn't appear to have materialised. 

And what about Sara?  Not a word or a whisper about any marital problems from her; Nick supposed she thought that Gris would never return so she needn't say anything.  But she was working part time hours so she could visit Gris.  Or so they all thought.  They all knew she had chased Gris until she'd caught him, so perhaps the chase was the exciting all-consuming part and the actual relationship failed to live up to her expectations.

It was funny but he'd heard some gossip some months ago from one of the day shift lab rats who was apparently convinced that Ray was her next target.  The older, more experienced man.  He was her new challenge.  He'd thought it a ludicrous snippet of gossip at the time but now what?  He had no idea; but Ray treated her like a schoolkid.  He grinned to himself.  Ray treated everyone like a schoolkid.

The coffee pot was hot so he poured himself a mug and he set about making himself a sandwich to eat straight away and a couple for his break time.  He was few minutes into his task when Gris appeared at the door.

"I'm really grateful for your hospitality.  As soon as my new cards arrive I'll be off.  I've used your address, I hope you don't mind."

"Look, Gris, you can stay for as long as you want.  The room's yours.  I'm going away on the thirtieth for five days, so if you're around you can house sit."

"I don't know how long I'll be in town.  Only for as long as I can sort out the divorce, but we have to sort out the marriage first."

"Oh."

"It was in an isolated missionary in Guyana; it might not have been legal.  That's what's taking the time...finding out."

"Right."  Nick was genuinely surprised at the amount of personal information Gris had just imparted.

"Indeed.  It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Romantic."

"Romantic?  I suppose it was."  Gris didn't seem that convinced.  Nick thought there was a lot more to this than met the eye.

"You don't sound convinced."  Nick just couldn't stop himself calling Gris on his description of his marriage.

"I don't think I was that convinced at the time and if I was, it didn't last long."

"This sounds like a story waiting to be told."

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to unload all the unpleasantness on you..."

"...it's okay, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Of course.  But thank you again, Nick."

"You're welcome."

"Nick, a favour?  Keep this to yourself, please?"

"Man, you don't need to ask.  I can't begin to imagine how Catherine, or even Greg, would react with that information."  He laughed.

"I know.  I've been such a fool...an old fool."  Gris didn't laugh.

At work, for the first time in what seemed months and months, they had a quiet night.  Catherine piled paperwork on top of paperwork for Nick and for once he had the time and inclination to get stuck in.  But every time he re-filled his coffee mug he would remember that Gil Grissom was back at his house, homeless, money-less and wife-less.

It was only co-incidence but Greg mentioned the bad weather in Paris holding up flights and he wondered whether Sara had managed to get there and meet up with Grissom.  And then Greg even mused further as to whether she would be back in work before Nick had to go off to New York.

Nick said nothing but did wonder where Sara was, exactly.  Surely not in Paris, because that was odd as Gris had said he'd come from Rome, not Paris.  But if it wasn't Paris, or even Rome, she must still be lying low somewhere since she couldn't afford to be seen in and around Las Vegas.  But Nick was confident that Sara would be back.  He had insider information and felt quite good about it since Greg was usually the man with his finger on the pulse.

Half way through his shift Jim Brass knocked his glass door and sidled into his office, closing the door behind him.

"You have an unexpected visitor?"

"I do."

"I would really have let him come and stay with me but I was...entertaining...and when I told Gil, he wouldn't come over so I suggested you.  I thought you'd be the best in the circumstances.  Has he told you?"

"Told me?"

"Now you see, that's why I said you'd be best.  He told me about the divorce; first I'd heard about it, but then he's not Mr Loquacious."

"No.  I was surprised...and that hardly covers it...he didn't actually say much but what he did say was more personal information than he's ever told me, but..."  Nick paused

Jim waited a few moments as Nick seemed to be thinking about something, but then he had to speak.  "But?"

"He seems older, a lot older, and if I'm honest, a bit...broken?"

"I know what you mean; just talking to him on his cell he seemed like he was defeated, maybe the right word is lost..."

"...yes, that's the word."

"For all his brains he's not very worldly; never has been."

"He knows a lot but he doesn't relate it to himself."

Both men sat in silence ruminating on the Gil Grissom they used to know and the man to whom they'd just become reacquainted.

Nick suddenly smiled.  "Entertaining?"

Jim stood up and touched his finger to his nose.  "I'm saying nothing."

Nick laughed. 

Jim smiled and left the office and Nick sat back in his chair for a few minutes and thought about both Gris, whose relationship was falling apart and Jim, who appeared to be embarking on a new relationship.  Swings and roundabouts. 

Nick managed to leave work nearly on time with a very satisfying pile of paperwork in his out tray.

Twenty-five minutes later he was parking on his driveway and looking forward to catching up with Gris, maybe he'd learn a little more about his life since he'd left the lab.

***

Gil waited for the coffee pot to prepare his first coffee of the day.  He was leaning on Nick's kitchen sink and staring out of the window.  He felt despondent.  His life had fallen apart and he had no one to blame but himself.  He had such high hopes after leaving the lab and what had happened?  He'd fucked up.  He'd fucked up more than he'd ever done in his life.  He'd fucked up when he should have known better and he'd walked right into it with his eyes wide open.

"There's no fool like an old fool."  He spoke his words aloud to the empty kitchen.  He'd said and thought the same words over and over again for a number of months.

He heard the front door open and Nick walk across the living room to the kitchen.

"Morning.  How did you sleep?"

"Not too bad considering the jet lag.  Coffee will be ready in a few minutes.  Can I get you something to eat?  Jesus!  Excuse me.  Offering you your own food in your own home."

"Don't worry about it.  If you're going to make some breakfast we can eat together."

"I'm not that hungry, to be honest, but I can make your breakfast.  Pay for my board."

"Gris, you don't have to repay me, I'm happy to help.  You should eat something."

"Please don't worry about me and let's face it, I can do with losing a few pounds.  Will you call me Gil?  I'm not your supervisor any more...that seems like a lifetime ago."

"Yeah; a lot's happened in the last two years."

"It certainly has.  So what do you eat for breakfast, breakfast or dinner?

"Breakfast."  Nick laughed and just stopped himself in time from reminding Gil that Sara used to call it supfast.

"A cooked breakfast coming up.  You go and get changed."

Nick smiled and turned to leave the kitchen and Gil spoke again.  "Thank you for everything, Nick."

"I said it's okay, really, man."

Gil watched as Nick left the kitchen and smiled to himself at the Nick Stokes he remembered.  Kind and obliging.  A man comfortable with himself, knowing what he wanted and at ease with the world, despite everything that had happened to him.

He started to prepare all the food necessary for a breakfast.  Gil could tell what Nick liked just by studying the food stuffs he had in his fridge and cupboards.

As he found the eggs he realised he didn't know how Nick liked his eggs.

Gil went up the stairs to Nick's room and shouted to Nick from outside the closed door.

"Nick, Nick?"

The door swung open and Nick stood in front of him stark naked.

"Oh sorry, Nick.  Eggs?  How do you like them?"

"Scrambled."

"Scrambled it is."  Gil turned and left but he could hardly catch his breath having seen the beauty of Nick's body.  The dreadful scars on his shoulder and chest; they were fading.  His muscles were firm and defined but not bulging.  God.  The beauty.

And there it was in one defining moment.  How beautiful the male form was; how mediocre the female form.  It just exacerbated his foolhardy behaviour.  Why on earth did he marry Sara?  Why on earth did he marry any woman when he preferred men?

If he could just answer that one question.  

Fifteen minutes later Nick was eating his breakfast.  "This is good but it would've tasted much better if you had joined me."

"Maybe tomorrow; at the moment I couldn't eat a thing.  My system's all out of time."

"I've never been to Europe.  Or anywhere long haul; I'm going to New York on Thursday.  The Stokes are gonna hit the town in their dozens."

"You've been to New York before, haven't you?"

"Nope.  Been to Boston...on that conference a couple of years ago.  Went to Hawaii last year on a bug course..."

"...you're the bug man now?"

"Hardly in your class but I do my best."

"Your best was always...best."   Gil felt a rush of admiration for Nick.  He was his best student.  He was always willing and he always learned his lessons well.  He was straightforward; he didn't have any hang-ups...at least any that he brought to work.   So why did he get so caught up with Sara and her problems, or issues as it was fashionable to call them. 

"Gil...Gil?"

"Sorry."  Nick had been talking and Gil was lost in his own depressing thoughts.  "I was thinking about you at the lab; never any problem to me, or anyone else."

"Me?  I thought I was a thorn in your side for a number of years."

"A thorn?  Never." And yet even as he denied it, Gil knew that Nick had good reason to think that he'd been marginalised.

He didn't think he'd done it intentionally but he'd driven Nick harder than any of the others.  Especially...  Especially Warrick.  He'd thought Warrick had had far more common sense and authority than he really had.  His heart was in the right place but his behaviours were that of a man with compulsions.  Exactly as he had been.  He didn't know when to let go even if, in the end, he was right.  He'd walked headlong into his own downfall.  And ultimately his own death.

"Are you okay?"  And once more Gil was pulled back to the present by Nick trying to talk to him.

"Sorry, Nick.  I'm finding it hard to concentrate.  My life has kind of unravelled in the last few months."

"Well that's what I was just trying to tell you.  Stay here, you're more than welcome.  Use my place to keep a low profile and sort out of your problems.  No one need know...except Jim.  And it will be one less thing to worry about."  Nick grinned at him and for a moment or two Gil felt he was going to cry.  To sob his thanks at Nick's generosity. 

It was as if he'd forgotten what it was like to be at the receiving end of a little human kindness.     

He took a few breaths and he noticed that Nick's smile had faded; maybe his face had betrayed his overwrought emotions, after all he usually wasn't renowned for being an open book.  "That is a very generous offer, Nick.  Are you sure?" 

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it."

"Then thank you, I will take you up on the offer and we'll work out the finances.

"No need.  Two can live as cheaply as one."

"You've never tried doing it have you?"

"That would be a "no'."  And Gil chuckled as Nick grinned at him.  "But you can earn your keep cooking if you want.  I hate cooking and it tastes so much better when someone else does it."

"That's a good bargain.  I do enjoy cooking although I'm not an expert...and eating, as you can see."

"I can't say I didn't notice...you have put on a few pounds."

"Comfort eating?  Boredom.  Loneliness."  For some reason Gil just told Nick the truth of the matter.

"You've been bored?  Doesn't seem like you.  You read.  You study, write, you are a loner.  What was different?"

"Yes.  I am a loner.  That's right.  But I was never lonely...I always had a back-up...my team...that I could go to...but..."

"Difficult in a foreign country."

"That.  And other things..."

Gil found that he couldn't say any more and to Nick's credit he didn't pursue it.  How could he have gone through his life so blind and so stupid?

***

Nick had really enjoyed breakfast and his time with Gil.  It was weird when they'd spoken about loneliness because he didn't consider himself lonely because, just like Gil, he was surrounded by the team...his team.  But he didn't have close friends away from work...even Warrick, in the end, hadn't been that close...and he worked fiendishly hard and maybe just like Gil he would become the loneliest man in the world without his work and his team.

He sat with an old forensics magazine on his lap but he was staring into space.  It would seem that he was more like Gil than he'd ever thought.   Well...apart from the heterosexual bit anyway, and the fact that even if he was het, he'd never have married Sara.  Man, he'd always liked her, she was...quirky, but underneath he'd always thought she was a bit of a psycho.  Sometimes, she could be real scary.  

But Nick would love to know if they were actually married.  It seemed ridiculous that either of them, whom Nick purported to know fairly well, (well he thought he did...) would marry and then not know whether or not they were actually married.  Sara would seem to think they were and Gil hoped they weren't...that was just Nick's assessment of the situation from what Gil had said.

He picked up his magazine again and then put it down.  He needed to make sure he had everything for his holiday.  He'd bought a warm coat and a new scarf and gloves.  He needed to get groceries in for Gil...no, he didn't, Gil was more than capable of shopping for whatever he wanted; he'd leave it to him.  But...what if he had no money?  What if the stolen cards story was just a ruse?  Maybe he was just broke.  He had no money and just said he'd lost his wallet and cards to be able to stay with Jim...only that plan had failed.

Nick shook his head; he was being fucking melodramatic.  On the other hand...  He'd do the shopping to make sure Gil could eat while he was away...just in case.  Because there was no doubt in Nick's mind that Gil was experiencing a crisis, not just of his marriage and failed relationship, it seemed to go deeper than that, Nick could have sworn that Gil was on the verge of crying earlier.  Gil Grissom.  How the mighty fall...or whatever the saying is.

Still thinking about Gil, Nick heard him coming downstairs and he appeared in the living room holding his laptop.  "Would it be okay to work at your kitchen table?  I can't get a comfortable position in my bedroom."

"Of course you can...but it would be better in my den.  I've got all my stuff set up in there and you can piggy-back on my printer if you like and hook up with my broadband."

Nick could see Gil's eyes light up with pleasure at the suggestion.  "That would be great.  It's so much more stable with a cable connection.  I've very nearly finished an article and I want to proof read it and then send it on its way.  I contribute regularly to this international journal and I send it to this service who translates it into French, Italian and German.  It's a very lucrative market and I've established a good following In Europe in the last two years.  I can speak a little of all three languages but when I teach they always provide an interpreter for me, but of course a great many of the students, especially the Germans, already speak impeccable English."

Nick was almost astonished.  He doubted he'd ever heard Gil talk so much in one go about something that wasn't actually related to a case they'd been working back in the old days.  It also kind of confirmed that he did have money and really had lost his wallet.

Gil noticed Nick's surprise.  "What's wrong?"

Nick chuckled and shook his head.  "You are more talkative than I've ever known you."

"That's because I've had no one to talk to...no one whom I would call a friend."  The seriousness of his tone caused Nick to stop chuckling, immediately.

"Was it really that bad?"

Gil didn't speak but nodded.  After a few moments he nodded again, this time towards the den.  "Is that your den?"

"Yeah.  Come on, I'll show you the layout."

They spent a companionable twenty minutes while Nick showed Gil the various wires to use and found out the disc to set up the printer on his laptop.  It was no coincidence that they had exactly the same laptop.  Most of the lab staff used the same ones they used at work.  It was convenient and they were good.

"All set?"  Nick was satisfied Gil had the relevant connection advice and would be fine using his den.

"I am."  He smiled.  "All I need is a fresh pot of coffee."

"You do drink too much coffee, you know that don't you?"

"I know.  But I enjoy it and it keeps me going."

"And awake.  You're not at the lab now, you can afford a bit of shut eye.  I don't think it's jet lag you've got...more like a caffeine overdose."

"Don't burst my bubble, Nick.  I can tell myself it's jet lag for a couple more days."  He laughed.

"I'll put the coffee pot on for you but you should drink herbal tea instead.  It'll be better for you."

"I used to drink it before I lived in Paris.  Herbal teas are considered poisonous in Paris."

"You're joking?" 

"Yes."

For a moment Nick stared at Gil and then laughed.  "You had me."

"Was I always so serious that you didn't think I joked?"

"No.  Yes.  You were quite relaxed and used to joke...until Holly Gribbs was murdered and you took over the team.  That changed you."

"Holly Gribbs.  A lifetime ago.  She didn't deserve to die.  But then nobody does."

"No.  A few maybe.  But then they don"t die do they?"

Gil looked at Nick quite intently and Nick felt he was being scrutinised for some reason.

"Jim told me, you know.  About you and McKeen."

"Not much to tell."

"Isn't there?"

"No, there isn't."  Nick wasn't going to say anything else but then the words escaped from him of their own volition and for the first time, he told the truth.  "It's the closest I've ever come to wanting to kill.  I could have done it.  Maybe if I hadn't heard Jim calling me...I might have."

"You didn't."

"No."

"And that's what separates the good guys from the bad."

"I killed a guy earlier this year."

"Really?  Who?  How?"  Gil was shocked.

"I thought you'd have heard about it from Sara."  Nick was genuinely surprised.

"We don't talk."

"I thought that was a recent thing."

"No.  It isn't"

"Oh."

It seemed to Nick that their sharing of personal information had come to an end.  He could sense that the mention of Sara's name had caused a shutter to come down between him and Gil.  Christ, things must be bad.

"I'll go put the coffee pot on."

"I could have an herbal tea, if you have some."

I've got ginger...I don't like it much, to be honest, someone, Wendy, told me to try it, I could make that for you."

"Would you?"

"Sure."  Nick left the den and made his way to the kitchen.  He'd had some time with Gil now to realise that they was definitely some deep rooted shit going on with Sara and maybe with his life.  He smiled to himself.  Just when his life took an interesting turn with Gil Grissom turning up on his doorstep out of the blue, he was off gallivanting across the country to meet up with his family.  In truth he would rather stay at home and find out more about Gil.

He yawned.  He could use some sleep.

Gil then appeared in the kitchen.  "You never said who you killed."

"Dr Jekyll.  Shot him."

"He's the one who shot you; I didn't know that you'd killed him."  Gil was aghast.  "She told me that this Jekyll character had shot you and killed a uniformed officer and then he'd been shot dead himself, but she didn't tell me that you had shot him; I had no idea."   

Gil was angry; Nick remembered that Gil very rarely lost his temper but when he did he was to be avoided.  Perhaps he should go to bed now.  He wasn't going to ask any questions but he admitted to himself that it was very odd for Sara to only tell Gil half a story.

***

Gil sat in Nick's den with his laptop open at the relevant document but he wasn't working, he was sipping the ginger tea, which wasn't too bad, and thinking about Nick...and Sara.

They were still talking when it had happened, just about anyway because she had told him about the death of Dr Jekyll and the fact that Nick had been shot and a uniformed officer murdered.  No, that wasn't quite right.   She'd told him about the officer, then Nick, then Dr Jekyll.  And that was why she hadn't finished the story because she knew that he'd been shocked to hear of the officer's death but he'd been devastated to hear that Nick had been shot, too.

He'd questioned her about the event, minutely, and that's when she'd shut up and refused to speak about it anymore.  She'd left their apartment and had not returned for hours and when she came back, she was still not talking to him.

As Gil remembered that day he also realised that he'd painted a picture of Sara to Nick that made it look like it was all her fault.  That was the good old Catholic sin of omission.  It was his fault, not Sara's; she wasn't entirely blameless but if he was allocating responsibility then he would have to say that his share was a good ninety percent.

And as he sat and thought about it a little more that familiar feeling of shame overcame him.  Of all the things he would have bet on never happening was his being unfaithful within a marriage was the one thing that he would have thought would be a dead certainty.  He just wasn't an adulterer.  But then...he was.

Even as he remembered he flushed with embarrassment.

But perhaps the worst thing was marrying Sara in the first place.  Nick had said it was a romantic gesture.  Romantic?  It was the most stupid self–deluded act he'd ever undertaken in his life and then he'd followed it up with his infidelity.  And then to confess?  The likelihood of her finding out was so infinitesimally small he had to ensure she knew so that she would leave him.

Leave him.  Because he was too much of a fucking coward to leave her first.

He deserved everything he got.  Her refusal to leave him and for them to try to work through his indiscretion and still he'd stayed.  Until he'd told her the real truth.  And that's when the shit...

At least the marriage was over now.  If it was even a marriage.  The lawyer he'd engaged to pursue the divorce was here in Las Vegas because she was with the firm he always used and with e-mail correspondence it was easy to communicate despite their distance apart.

But the latest information was the ball breaker.

To end a marriage there had to be confirmation that the marriage had taken place.  And according to the translation service, the certificate that Gil had couriered to the lawyer was not a legally binding document.  It was an old fashioned church document of betrothal, saying that the couple promised to marry in the eyes of God, not an actual marriage. 

As far as he knew the priest had conducted a proper marriage ceremony but if the relevant paperwork had not been completed then they were not legally married...  The marriage had been a hastily arranged romantic tryst in a remote jungle mission in Guyana.  The Priest: a very elderly Portuguese missionary. 

Later this week Gil would meet with his lawyer and Sara with her lawyer in an attempt to find a solution that would satisfy all of them.  The only thing was that they were expecting him to be there via video conferencing...but at the last minute when he was in Rome and supposed to be heading back to Paris, he's decided to come...home.

Gil huffed.  The one thing he knew now with utmost certainty was that, whatever the outcome, Sara would never be satisfied.  That was lesson he'd learned the hard way.  She never was satisfied – ever – about anything.

He put his tea down and looked at his work.  He would spend some hours completing this article and then start another little project he'd thought about.  Thank God he had his work.  It was his salvation; well...along with Nick's hospitality.

Nick was just about the kindest straightforward man, person, he'd ever known.  He kept going back to the same thoughts of Nick.  What you saw was what you got.  No hidden agenda, no moodiness, no dwelling on his past.  Christ, he'd had more shit thrown at him than any of the others and yet he'd come out the other end seemingly unscathed.  He'd even been shot before shooting and killing a mass murderer.  He had physical scars but did he have mental scars?  Gil thought he probably would have but that Nick would move forward and not dwell in the past.

He wouldn't associate every single thing that happened to him to something that had happened in his past.  Everything, however bad, was a new experience and to be used as a learning experience so he could move on...  Not something that happened because it was me...me...me...  Sara had bad things happen to her but she expected them and embraced them; she was a martyr. 

All he'd done over the years they were together was feed her martyrdom...even down to his being unfaithful.  Sara had said it was her fault because she'd neglected him.  Fucking stupid.  The reason he'd been unfaithful was that he needed a man...not an insipid simpering woman.

A man.

It would be a real cop-out to say that Sara had forced him to sleep with a man, but it was true.  He was inadequately equipped to deal with any woman, let alone a woman so damaged and fragile.

He put his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands.  He was feeling sorry for himself and he really should pull himself out of it...it was his fault.  But Nick had faced so much more and come through intact.  That's what he should do...put it behind him.  Look to the future and whatever that would bring.  He sighed and pushed himself to feet.

In the kitchen he poured the cold remains of the herbal tea away and started a coffee pot.  Back in Nick's den he completed the work to his satisfaction and sent it off and by the time his stomach rumbled its demand for food he'd completed a couple of thousand words of his new article.

He got himself a bowl of cereal and looked around for something for a meal for when Nick got up.  Nick had said he wanted something hot but not too stodgy.  There was a lasagne in the freezer, it looked homemade and a closer examination revealed Nick had presumably made it and frozen it on the tenth of November.  Perfect.  He pulled it out to defrost and then checked the fridge for salad.  Perfect.

Nick was a very organised young man.  Not that young anymore, of course, but still...  Gil stopped himself from thinking anything else, removed his glasses and pinched the top of his nose and then rubbed his eyes.  He didn't need to think any thoughts of Nick.  At least, not those kind of thoughts...

***

The alarm clock was ringing out, but Nick was already awake.  He was sure he could smell something cooking which he thought was really weird.  No.  Wait.  Gris was staying with him and he was cooking his dinner, or his breakfast or whatever meal it could be called.  He turned off his alarm and got out of bed stretching as he went to his bathroom for a piss and maybe a dump, but definitely a shower and a shave.

Over twenty minutes later he was just about to make his way downstairs when he saw Gil about to make his way upstairs.

"Morning' sunshine."  Nick greeted his house guest.

"Good afternoon or even good evening.  Your dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes."

"Smells good."

"It should, it's your meal, I've just re-heated it.  Lasagne with salad."

"Great.  I love that lasagne; Momma's housekeeper gave me the recipe."

"Then I hope I haven't spoiled it."

"You won't have."

Gil raised his eyebrows at Nick and Nick laughed.  "You look like Supervisor Grissom being sceptical.  It's like old times."

Gil laughed along with Nick.  "Except I know about forensic stuff...my cooking has always been, how shall I phrase this...a bit hit and miss.  I do enjoy it though, I find it relaxing."

"Yeah, okay, but re-heating?  Making up a salad?"

"I've tried.  But I've still got my fingers crossed."  And he held up his fingers to show that they were indeed crossed.

Nick continued to laugh as they reached the kitchen, the table set up ready.  Gil took the hot food out of the oven and put two portions onto plates, one a lot bigger than the other.  Nick noticed.

"Hey...they're not very even."

"The diet starts now, I'm cutting down.  The salad bowl's in the fridge, but I didn't know which dressing you fancied and as you have three..."

"...don't mind.  Caesar's?"

"Fine by me."  So Nick poured a little dressing over the bowl and used the utensils on the table to toss the salad around a little.

"I was looking for a clean pair of pants and put these old ones on and I had to battle to get the button done up and the zipper just won't pull up right to the top....you know?  Do they call it "muffin top'?"  Nick laughed.  "I have several tiers of cake hanging over my belt.  I was thinking that I should start using a gym; try and get into some semblance of shape."  Gil stopped talking to take a mouthful of food and chew it.  "I see what you mean, this is good."

"Yeah.  Perfectly re-heated."

"I'm relieved."

"You could come to my gym."

"Would that be okay?  I haven't been to a gym for...for...a long time."  In fact Gil couldn't remember when he'd last visited a gym.

"You can't remember can you?"

"No.  It could be thirty years, I was slim in my twenties and thirties but when I hit forty the pounds just started to pile on...and stayed on."

"Shit."

"What's wrong?"  Gil looked at Nick.

"I'm thirty nine."

Gil laughed at Nick's consternation.  "You'll be fine; you work out all the time and watch what you eat.  You won't change."

"You reckon?"

"I know so.  This lasagne is excellent, Nick.  It's rare to find someone who bothers to make a dish nowadays when everything can be bought, ready to heat and eat, at the store."

"Oh, man, I did that for years until I just got pissed and started to make stuff for myself.  I had some hit and misses, like you."

"And as I continue to do so.  But I am quite adventurous and sometimes my ideas don't travel well from the stove to the plate."  Gil sounded rueful.

They continued to eat in silence and it struck Nick how easy and friendly they were together.  They'd never been particularly close, but that didn't seem to make any difference now.  Nick wondered which of them had changed...or whether they both had to a certain degree and now they'd met in the middle.  

"Your new cards should be here tomorrow."

"I know.  It's odd but I feel almost liberated without them.  I can't do anything and I really don't need to do anything.  I was going to buy a book on-line earlier and realised I couldn't, but then thought do I really need the book.  All the information is available elsewhere, so I think I've saved myself eighty bucks."

"Gil.  You could have used my card..."

"...I could not...it's bad enough that I'm freeloading here, I'm not about to let you finance my book habit."

"Okay.  But if you need some money please let me help out."

"I will need a few bucks tomorrow...providing the cards arrive I'll need to get into Vegas to get some money but I'll need cab fare."

"Use my truck when I get home."  Nick saw that look of pleasure again in Gil's eyes.

"Are you sure?  I remember you as being quite territorial about your trucks."

"Yeah, well that was when Sara or Warrick wanted to drive..."  Nick had mentioned the two people guaranteed to put a dampener on the conversation.  Gil paused for a few moments before he spoke.

"Are you still saving for Warrick's son's college fund?"

"Yes.  I put some money away each month.  But I don't see him; Tina was a bit...funny about it, what with the custody battle and everything.  We keep in touch with an occasional e-mail, she's moved to Reno with her husband."

"You know that as Warrick's closest surviving relative he'll have the LVPD insurance money?  Tina knows that she can't have the lump sum, but she has child support payments for him and he'll have the lump sum when he's twenty-one.

"No, I didn't know that.  Tina never said...but I'll still save for him.  For Warrick."

"I was surprised about it all, were you?  Warrick never mentioned a thing."

"No.  I mean I was surprised because he never said anything to me either.  We all keep secrets, I suppose."

"Yes.  Yes.  We do."

They continued to eat in silence but it was still companionable and Nick realised that his remark about Sara had been completely ignored.

"I have a plan, see what you think."  Nick paused and took a sip of his water.  "I usually go to the gym Mondays, so if I come back here, pick you up, drive you to your bank and then we could both go to the gym."

Gil seemed hesitant.

"You don't want to do that do you?"  Nick asked.

"I do.  I really do and it's exactly what I should do...in at the deep end, or I could be talking about it for weeks and then months and never go.  So, yes.  That's a plan.  But I need workout clothes; could we stop at the mall before we get to the gym?"

"Sure.  The outlets are the best.  You only need a tee, shorts, trainers and socks...and a jock strap to keep the family jewels safe.  And you can have a complimentary session or two at the gym and I get a discount when I renew my membership for introducing a new guy.  And for an extra fee you can have a personal trainer to start you off...show you the best exercises for you."

"You have my life mapped out for me?"  Gil was smirking at Nick.

"Aww; I'm sorry I didn't mean to take over.  Do what you want, don't let me organise your life."

"No, Nick."  Gil spoke very firmly at Nick.  "That's...you're exactly what I need, someone to motivate me and keep me going.   Although the thought of my legs in shorts is almost enough to make me baulk at going."

Nick couldn't help it.  All of them at the lab, over the years, had taken the piss out of Gil's bow legs, pigeon feet, and the way he walked.  He started chuckling and was sure he was blushing bright red but he was laughing almost helplessly within a few moments.

He looked up and Gil was employing his poker face and he felt guilty and even more unable to stop laughing.  He spluttered.  "I'm sorry, Grissom...but...but..."  He was unable to continue.

"It's not that funny.  Although I always thought you did the best imitation."

And that stopped Nick laughing but he still spluttered.  "You knew?"

"Jim tipped me off...I saw you, Greg, Warrick and Archie taking it in turns."

Nick chuckled.  "I was best?"

Gil smiled at Nick's need for approval from him; even after all these years and in these circumstances.

"You were best."  Gil thought for few moments and then spoke again.  "'What manner of a man is this, that wears his balls in parenthesis?'"  He smirked again.

Nick looked puzzled for a moment or two and then laughed.  "Who said that?  Shakespeare?"

"As a matter of fact it is attributed to him, but some people say it's just a joke."

"So you've learned to live with...your legs?"

"It's hereditary; my Grandpa Grissom was the same, but my father was lucky enough to miss out."

"So all the hereditary stuff was dumped on you?"

"It seems that way."

"We Stokes' have all inherited the same features.  Seven kids.  All dead straight dark brown hair, brown eyes, square jawed, straight teeth. Ali and Jen are twins, but we could be septuplets...it's a family joke."

"I saw the photographs in your living room.  You all look very happy."

"We are.  I mean, we have our moments but most of the time we do get on.  We're all visiting with my eldest sister, Mary, in New York.  It's the first time, ever, we haven't all been back to Texas for either Christmas or New Year, but Mary's had a good year after having a few years of bad luck.  Sooo..."

"The flight?"

"Yeah.  I'm working the night before so I hope to sleep."

"It's not that long."

"It will be for me."

Gil was suddenly serious.  "Nick; are you sure you're okay with me staying here while you're away?"

"Yeah.  Of course I am.  Couldn't want a better house sitter, now could I?"

"I promise to take care of the place...and thank you."

"Finish your dinner, man, or you'll be going hungry."

"You're going to monitor me aren't you?"

"I sure am."

"No cheating?"

"No."

"Right, at least I know where I stand."

"Yep."

"Thanks, Nick."

"You're welcome."       

***

Gil was in bed trying to sleep but for the life of him he couldn't get comfortable.  He just couldn't; no matter how he arranged himself.  It was he own fault...again...

His back ached, his belly ached.  His legs felt as if they were being unscrewed from his body.  "Of course I can do them', that's what he'd told the Personal Trainer at Nick's gym.  And he had done the exercises he'd been given and instead of taking it steady and gradually building them up over time he'd gone at it like a man deranged and demented. 

Trying to prove...  What?

That he was fitter, younger, and more capable than he actually was?  Of course that was it.  The young guy had told him to take it steady; he'd told him how to go about building the exercises up and adopting the right regime for maximum effect.  But no; he couldn't and he wouldn't, he had something to prove. 

He'd felt good though, he'd felt energised and enthused and even younger...until he'd glanced around and seen all the younger (and even some older) men glistening and sweating, moving easily and proficiently through their exercises.  He was sweaty alright but his face was so red from his exertion that he looked like he would burst a blood vessel at any moment.

When Nick had appeared beside him and looked down at him and grinned, Gil had chuckled.  Nick knew.

"Come on, you want to sweat a bit more in the sauna?'  Nick had asked and he'd agreed that he would.

He and Nick had gone in with towels wrapped around their bellies.  But there were some naked men and Gil had had to have a few surreptitious looks at them.  One guy, maybe he was about forty, was fit and fabulous and so gay that he could have had a neon sign lit above his head saying, "Yeah.  I am.  You want me?'  In another time and place and not forgetting his circumstances, Gil might have had a passing interest.  But it was hardly the time or the place and he certainly had no inclination.

He'd had to leave the heat of the sauna before Nick and was showered and dressed before Nick came out.  Gil waited for Nick outside the gym and sat in the shade of the building on a bench.  His cards had arrived in that morning's post but the security numbers, to enable them, had not.  So he was even more in debt to Nick, who'd paid for his workout gear and the trainer at the gym; he could get two free sessions before he had to pay, but he'd had to pay for the trainer's services.  But, at least he had a set of exercises that would tone him up...if, indeed, he lived through the night.

Gil suspected that Nick thought he had no money.  He'd given him five hundred bucks when they'd got to the Outlets to cover his "needs' for the next few days.  That included buying his gear but that was cheap stuff...he didn't need to make a fashion statement so he bought sale items.  Nick spent nearly two hundred bucks on one pair of Nike trainers.  But they did look good on him.  Gil's feet were not worthy of such extravagance and he'd told Nick that.

Gil tried to smirk to himself through his pained muscles...he could swear his chin was aching now...because Nick had then told him, quite seriously, that if he had trouble with his feet then he really should spend money on good footwear to help them.  Nick had been sitting down on a bench changing back into his own shoes when he'd said it and Gil had very nearly leaned across and ruffled his short hair, he'd been so endearing.

Gil was just about falling asleep when his eyes flew wide open.  He'd been thinking just how sweet a guy Nick was and was comfortable enough to fall asleep when he'd realised that he had a hard-on.  True, it was not much more than a half-hearted hard-on, but it was the first time in a couple of months.  He'd been trying not to worry about the complete absence of any sexual feelings, he was sure it was only a stress induced period of erectile dysfunction but now that very familiar heat was once more pooling in his balls and lower belly. 

It was back and thoughts of Nick being sweet and endearing had managed to wake it up.  He slipped his hand down into his old sleep pants, wincing at the stiff and painful muscles in his arm and shoulder, but really smiling to himself as he clasped his dick and massaged it, expertly, to a full erection.

He thought about leaving it hard and just basking in the warmth it was generating that he had missed, even if he'd pretended not to, but he needed to ejaculate now, as a test. His masculine pride wouldn't let him leave it and there was no telling at this stage whether he could actually achieve an orgasm.  So mess or no mess he was going to see if he could ejaculate...if the pain in the rest of his body would let him.

He sank, more relaxed, into the confortable spare bed in Nick Stokes' home and remembered the sight of Nick at the gym, sweat beaded on his face and neck as he'd grinned down at Gil and then as he sat in the sauna, his face, neck and his hairless chest sleek with sweat running down his skin, along the muscles, over his scars and his small tight nipples...

As Gil imagined the nipples he'd seen, twice now, he pumped his dick furiously and relaxed, knowing that after his dry spell, he was about to empty himself into his hand and pants and as his muscles tightened he groaned at the pain in his back and butt cheeks but also at the hot pleasure as the thick viscous fluid scorched his hand as he pumped it out.  It seemed to go on for minutes, he was sure it hadn't but it had been so long he guessed his balls were pretty full.   

As he started to fall asleep again his last thoughts were...firstly, that he must wash his bedding in the morning as he'd just wiped his hand over the sheet, secondly, that maybe he should have taken a couple of Tylenol and thirdly, that it was a fine way to repay Nick for his generosity by having a dirty little fantasy under his own roof about him.  But then Gil was still feeling pretty pleased with himself for getting an erection and ejaculating and he was still smirking to himself as his pained, but satisfied body finally succumbed to sleep.

***

Nick managed to get away from the lab only two hours late and was battling traffic as he made his way home.  He wondered if Gil was able to move this morning after his performance at the gym.  The PT had told Nick to go and stop Gil from killing himself since he wouldn't stop for him.  Gil looked like he would collapse any minute but he did see the funny side of it and they went to the sauna together.

Nick had been impressed and annoyed with Dirk at the gym.  He really was very toned and looked great but he was such an outrageous gay, it was a wonder that some of the testosterone fuelled gym members hadn't expelled him or even beaten him up.  He'd come on to Nick several times and Nick was almost tempted but it was too close to home.  The gym was convenient to his actual home and he didn't want to queer his pitch.  He chuckled at his own pun.

And Dirk?  That couldn't possibly be his real name.  Nick knew he was a casino worker and he bet he probably did tricks on the down low.  He was just that kind of guy.  But turning up in the sauna as naked as the day he was born was his usual habit when he was interested in someone who was in there.  He had actually been warned about it and although he was an outrageous flirt, given the chance, he'd never touched anyone...as far as Nick knew.

But the major surprise to Nick was that it was Gil that Dirk had been interested in and the even bigger surprise was that Gil, although he'd done nothing overt at all, was obviously quite interested in him.  He'd also left the sauna hurriedly.

This was interesting.  Nick knew from long experience that Gil was not fazed at all by any alternate lifestyles.  He remembered, with a shudder, going to the adult baby shop with Gil, where the woman had assumed Gil was Nick's Daddy.  And Gil had done nothing to correct the woman, instead he'd enjoyed Nick's squirming.

And then there was the transvestite club.  Gil had been very sympathetic to their cause.  But saying that, what they had endured was fucking terrible and a crime.  Literally.

But Nick had never thought that Gil was anything other than straight.  They'd all seen him flirt with Lady Heather and there were still outstanding bets on whether or not he did sleep with her.  Nick thought then that maybe he should ask Gil the truth and claim the prize money.  But Greg would never give it up without conclusive proof, and that would mean Gil telling Greg himself.  Not going to happen.

Then there was the anthropologist that Gil drooled over, her name was Terri Miller if he remembered correctly.  He'd never drooled over Sara.  Then there was Sofia...now Jim always fancied his chances with Sofia...but did Gil beat him to it?  And was she in town again?  Whoa...  Was she Jim's guest?  Now that he'd have to investigate and he chuckled again.  You old dawg, James Brass, he thought.

But Gil had never displayed any gay leanings that Nick knew about.  But there again, none of them knew about Sara for years, (and only a very few actually knew that he was gay).  Gil could hide anything he wanted.  But he didn't hide his feelings for Heather and Terri and Sofia.  Not like he did with Sara.  This was worth some investigation.

How ironic would it be having a gay, or bi, man under his roof who didn't know that his host was gay?  He must make a plan and set traps but then he laughed out loud; he had no idea what he should do...maybe parade around the house in his birthday suit like Dirk.  Hold on, Nick thought, Gil had seen him naked, when he'd come up to his room and asked about the eggs...what had happened?   Nothing.  Gil had maintained eye contact all the time; his eyes hadn't strayed at all.  But was that odd in and of itself?  Of course it wasn't, Nick laughed again, he was behaving like a rookie, jumping to conclusions without evidence. 

Of course, the obvious solution was just asking him outright.  Yeah, like he was going to do that.  He pulled his truck up onto his driveway and then made his way into his house.  The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit him as he opened the door.

"Hey.  Gil?"  "Are you gay?  He thought as he greeted his houseguest.

"In the kitchen.  You timed that right.  You want a coffee?"  Gil called from the kitchen.

"Why not.  How're you feeling?"  Nick sauntered into the kitchen

"You know how I'm feeling.  Foolish."

"And in pain?"  Nick grinned.

"Agony."  Nick laughed.

"You went at it like a madman."

"I know.  I did enjoy it though."

"That's good, but you need to be a lot more careful."

"At my age?  I know.  I don't know what possessed me."

"You were competing.  Alpha male syndrome."

Gil laughed out loud and then grimaced and held his side.  "Do not make me laugh.  I think you're right.  They, you, made it look so easy.  In my madness to compete I forgot that it's been a long time and things...like my girth, my weight, my age, have changed."  

"I didn't figure you as competitive."

"I am."  Gil handed a mug of the fresh coffee to Nick

"Thanks.  Never saw any examples of it at the lab."

"Because I was at the top of my game, no one could challenge my position."

Nick grinned because Gil had stated it as a fact, not in a manner of gloating and Nick had to acknowledge that it was true.

"What are you grinning at?"

"Nothing."

"No point in false modesty, Nick."  Gil guessed anyway.  "They'll be more than enough pretenders in due course.  If not already.  You're the new bug man.  Langston's a heavyweight."

"You know I'll never be the bug man.  That's your pitch.  Besides, I don't love them like you do.  Ray's a know-it-all.  Nice guy and we work well together but he knows everything...but he's still not in your league."  Nick added the last sentence because he'd just realised that however much Ray did know, Gil knew more, especially regarding forensics.  Gil was guy to beat, even now.

Gil smirked at Nick but didn't thank him but Nick could tell he was pleased at the compliment.  Nick realised that with all that had happened to him it could well be that his self-esteem had been dented.  Not his professional self-esteem, that seemed quite intact, but his personal self-worth.  Maybe that's what drove him to overdo it at the gym.  Who knew?  He certainly didn't.

"What are you thinking?"

"Not much.  Need to get stuff ready for my trip." He lied easily but guiltily.

"I must say you don't sound very enthusiastic."

"I'm okay.  You know that nowadays I have to steel myself up for a family visit.  There are a lot of us.  I live a quiet life here and you can get too used to that."  Nick shook himself at revealing too much to Gil.  "But I'm being disrespectful to my Momma and Dad.  I don't see them that often.  And they're not getting any younger and it's the only time we all get together."

"Have your parents retired?"

"Hell, no.  Not in their vocabulary.  They'll die with their boots on."

"I used to think that would be me, but the older I get the more I look forward to pleasing myself, do some travelling..."

"You've done a fair bit already."

Gil gave him a strange look.  "Yes.  But not in the way I would have liked."

"Right."  Nick had touched a raw nerve without realising.

"No.  That's not very nice of me.  I have, you're right.  Despite my personal problems...of my own making, I assure you...I have been to some wonderful places and seen beautiful things.  I hope to do some more travelling without repeating the mistakes I've made.  Now what do you want to eat?"  Gil changed to a far more upbeat tone to ask Nick the question.

"Not much.  I'll get a bowl of cereal.  I'm going to go for a run when it's settled. You coming?"

Gil gave him an incredulous look.  "You are joking me, aren't you?"

"Nope.  A gentle jog will do you good."

"Nick.  A gentle jog could...will kill me!"

"You wanted me to monitor you and here you are falling at the first hurdle.  What about a fast walk?"

"Run the guilt trip, why don't you."  Gil was trying not to grin.  "Okay.  Okay.  I'll try."

And Nick did something he might have done to his brother or maybe Greg or Warrick.  Without thinking he gently slapped both of Gil's cheeks with both of his hands and then grinned.

"A result."

And he left an astounded Gil standing as he turned around and made a hasty and embarrassed exit from the kitchen.

***

His throat was burning and he could hardly catch his breath not to mention the pain in his legs, and his arms, and his back and his...everywhere.

Nick had said he was going to run and after a few minutes jogging alongside Gil he'd sped up and ran off shouting instructions for Gil to keep going and he'd meet him on his way back.

Oh, the ignominy of it; he'd had to stop jogging several times and he could actually walk faster.  Well that wasn't true, at the moment he wouldn't be able to crawl far and yet here he was compelled, again, to try and keep up.  Or at least do as Nick said.  He tried a chuckle but he hadn't the breath and anyway his lungs hurt.

But he was appalled at himself for being this out of shape.  When had it happened?  How had he become a heart attack waiting to happen?  That was an easy question.  He hadn't done any exercise, except walking, for years.  He had done quite a lot of walking but only very rarely had it been sufficiently aerobic to be of any benefit.  He ambled.  That was it.  From one bug to another or to a plant or a view.  He'd never concerned himself with his health to any great degree.  He had been lucky.  No, strike that; he'd been extremely lucky.  Apart from the otosclerosis, he'd never had any other operation or serious illness.  He'd broken his arm in fourth grade.  He had colds and coughs and that was it.  But if he continued jogging now he'd probably die...not probably...he was almost certain he would.

And yet.  Nick was looking after his interests like he'd asked him to, so he could hardly complain.  Maybe another month of eating properly and regular exercise and he'd lose a little weight and be fitter. That is...if he lived that long.

He stopped altogether and leaned over and put his hands on his knees to try and catch some serious oxygen.  He made a promise to himself that he would do it; he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.  In another month he'd be on his way back to Paris for the final semester of his contract.

Gil stood up and looked ahead.  There was no sight of Nick at all.  He took a couple of deep breaths and started jogging, his pace nothing more than a crawl.  But he was jogging.

As he painfully and bravely, he thought, continued along the sidewalk he tried to think of other things.  That wasn't difficult; he would be having his meeting with his lawyer tomorrow and would be face to face instead of video to video with Sara.  It would be their first meeting since she'd walked out the Paris apartment.  That was the day he'd told her that he'd been unfaithful, which she'd known, with a man.  Which she did not know.

He knew that she wasn't homophobic but what she'd called him that day he deserved.  He was, among other things, dirty and deceitful.  He was he knew it.  And now the familiar embarrassment of what he'd done came back; if his face had not already been bright red from his exertion, it would be from his blush.

As Gil tried to breathe and run and excise the shame from his mind, he wondered just how long he would carry the guilt with him.  His own answer?  For ever more; and it was no more than he richly deserved.  

He was suddenly aware that Nick was running towards him; he had no idea just how long he'd been jogging, but it was bearable, as if he'd managed, somehow, to pass the proverbial pain barrier and survive.

Nick ran up to him and was panting and sweating and gasping for breath from his sprint finish.  About the same as Gil but that was about where the comparison ended.

"Enjoy your jog?"  Nick gasped.

"No.  But I managed and I will keep it up and you must make sure I do, and ignore any excuse I give you."

"Okay.  Come on, let's jog back."

Gil breathed deeply and started towards home and then smiled to himself; he'd thought of Nick's home as his own. 

Added to his aches and pains and his burning lungs Gil's feet had developed two blisters.  He wouldn't tell Nick but he would go an buy some of those fancy Nike trainers.  Nick was right, his feet did deserve better.  Was Nick always right?  It seemed he was.

When they got home Gil couldn't even summon up the energy to shower immediately...he was trembling at his exertion and sat at the kitchen table nursing a water.  Nick had gone off to shower and then he said he had some work to do on his computer before going to bed.  He would eat when he got up before work.  A breakfast.  Gil would cook it for him, careful to grill and not fry...he was learning very quickly Nick's likes and dislikes.

The strangest thing was that he was enjoying it so much.  He loved his new role; housekeeper.  It wasn't strenuous or needed a great deal brain power, but he was feeling more relaxed than he had for months.

"I'm going to the den."  Nick broke Gil's reverie.  "I think I am going to make a sandwich, do you want one?"

"I'm okay, thanks.  But let me.  What do you want?  Not peanut butter."

"How did you know?"

"You told someone in the lab years ago...I remembered, and there's none in your cupboard and I was looking for some.  I like it."

"Jesus.  If you get some keep it hidden, it turns my stomach.  There are some cold cuts; I'll just have one round with some salad. Okay?"

"Coming up.  Drink?"

"Just water."

"Go start your work and I'll bring it in to you."

"Thanks.  It's like having a maid service...I mean...I don't mean that disparagingly..."

"...don't worry.  I like doing it, makes me feel useful and it's refreshingly stress free.  I would have thought with your all your sisters you'd be used to be waited on."

"You must be joking...I was their servant, made to do everything for them when Mom and Dad weren't there and I couldn't say anything when they were, for fear of serious retribution.  Girls.  Women.  They made the rules."

"Ha!  Don't they always."   Gil noticed that Nick had suddenly become a little uncomfortable and was possibly blushing.  Strange.  Talking about his family.

"I guess you know."

"I do.  Too much."

Nick didn't say anything else.  He nodded, sagely, Gil thought, and left the kitchen.  Gil washed his hands and started to make the sandwich and thought some more about Nick.  He seemed strangely worried about revealing something...too much about his family.  Or too much about himself.

Gil started to think back over the years he'd know Nick Stokes and what he knew about him. A few odd titbits here and there.  The peanut butter.  The birds.  He'd forgotten both of those until he came to stay.  All around the house were photographs of birds that had been mounted and framed and then Gil had been surprised to note that there were some drawings and water colours of birds, also mounted and framed, that were signed, "N.Stokes', and dated in the past ten years, but none later than 2008.  Why had he stopped in 2008?

***

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