Title: Ten Mistakes
By: Rapidfan
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Greg struggles through a rough night, making one mistake after another.

It still surprised him, even after seven years, how cold the desert nights were. He huddled into his thin-but-fashionable jacket, shivering. He gave a brief, longing thought for the shearling jacket that Nick had brought back from Texas for him. It was heavy and deliciously warm, but he'd never pictured himself in such a blatantly Western item, and had left it in his closet. First mistake of the night.

He had been a little taken aback when Grissom sent him out alone again. The last time that happened he'd spent four days in the hospital and two weeks at home. Of course, here in the middle of nowhere, he'd surely see any trouble coming from a mile off. Still.

There, finally, that looked like his turn off. All he had to do is get some gas station attendant to give his prints to Greg, and he'd be back on the road. Trash run, Grissom had called it. That's what he'd said the last time, too. Greg figured it couldn't be too bad. Just cold and a long-ass drive into nowhere. Not too bad. He'd just made his second mistake of the night; he just didn't know it yet.

There, at last, was the station. How did any business this remote make any money? It was completely dark, save one feeble light over the pump. Where was the state trooper that was supposed to meet him here?

Greg slowed and circled the tiny lot. There was the cruiser, in back of the station. Odd. It was running but all the lights were off. The hairs on the back of Greg's neck pricked. He reached for his phone.

"Dispatch, this is CSI Sanders…"

"Put the phone down and get out of your vehicle!"

Shit! Greg nearly swallowed his tongue! Wildly he looked around, searching for the source of the command.

"I don't want to hurt you, kid, so don't make me. Do what I said, NOW!"

Greg realized someone, the trooper?, was using the public address system in the cruiser. Why would the trooper order him out of his car? He knew Greg was coming. Only then did Greg see the vague shape tossed up against the station wall. The trooper wouldn't be meeting Greg tonight, or anyone ever again.

Time to act. Get out of the car or get the hell out. Greg crouched as low as he could behind the wheel, threw the car into reverse and gunned it. He knew his old Jetta wouldn't outrun a police cruiser, but he'd rather make a try than offer himself up like some crazy human sacrifice.

He could hear the cruiser pulling out behind him. Why hadn't he taken a Denali? At least they were GPS equipped. He was going to get lost, then he was going to get killed and no one was going to find him for a very long time. So, that was mistake number three.

"I need to seriously rethink my decision not to carry!" He was really scared now, shaking with more than just the cold. He'd seen no cars on the long drive in. It was up to him. Where had he dropped his phone? His cushion of space earned by surprise was dwindling rapidly. He didn't have much time. Where the hell was his phone?

Suddenly the little Jetta lurched forward, snapping Greg's head back painfully. He'd been hit! Damn. He fought to control the wildly sluing car. Another hit like that and he'd be off the road.

The loud revving of the cruisers big engine was the only warning he got before a second, much harder lurch sent him plummeting over the embankment. There was no traction, no way to steer. He could only ride it all the way to the bottom.

A wild series of images were caught by the headlights as the car tumbled to its final resting place. The airbag deployed, knocking Greg's arms back into his face, stunning him. Suddenly, all was quiet. An eerie fog from the powder inside the airbag filled the car. Greg tried to move and felt a new blast of fear when he couldn't make his hands obey.

Fumbling, struggling with his seat belt and the deflated airbag, Greg finally got the door open. On the crest, he could just make out the shape of the battered cruiser. Where was the guy? Who the hell was he?

Greg scrambled as best he could around his own crumpled car. He decided safety lie up and out of the ravine. The only way out was to climb. Only then did he realize he'd committed mistake number four. He should have grabbed a flashlight and spent a minute looking for his cell. Should he go back? A quick glance behind him showed a large shape getting out of the cruiser. A really large shape. God. No going back. Greg started to climb.

The ascent was a lot tougher than Greg thought. It was steep, and littered with shale and loose rocks. The strange tingling in his arms and hands had given way to a throbbing pain, making grasping anything a challenge. The sound of his pursuer beginning his descent was enough to spur Greg on.

Half way up, he chanced another look back. The man was silvered in moonlight. God, huge didn't even begin to describe him. Not very graceful, either. Good. Even with injuries, that gave Greg an advantage.

Greg realized now where he was. This was the base of La Madre Mountain. The mountain was pocked with mines from when Nevada was Silver King. Could he get to one, maybe hide? It seemed like his only shot. He had to assume that the big man had a weapon. That he was willing to kill, Greg already knew. He had to buy time. The dispatch operator would report his call, and they would begin looking for him. So. First up and out. Then, see what's available.

Slipping, sliding, grasping at any purchase he could get, Greg clawed his way to the top of the ravine. Standing upright, he searched the wall opposite for his pursuer. There he was, about three quarters of the way down. If he was having that much trouble coming down, Greg could only hope the way up would be even harder. Time to move.

The rise ahead of Greg was gentler then that of the ravine he had just cleared. His bleeding fingers and aching arms were grateful for that. Only now did he realize his nose was bloody. Great, twice broken in as many months. So much for his perfect profile. There was a first aid kit in the car, not that it did him any good now. Greg sighed, chalking up mistake number five.

"Geez, Sanders. Just how did you ever pass your proficiency, anyway!?"

The air seemed to be growing colder, and the clouds were beginning to obscure the moon. With the light left, Greg scanned the mountainside above him. Caves, there should be caves. There! Yeah, that was a cave off to the left and maybe fifty yards up. He could see the faint glimmer of the metal gate. It would be a challenge getting up there unseen. He'd better be unseen. He had no hope of fighting off the unknown man. His arms were beginning to swell, and he was loosing feeling in his fingers. Behind him he could hear the man cursing as he slid into the trough below.

"I'm going to make you pay for this kid! I was going to be quick, but now you're going to pay. You look like you're a pretty boy. Are you pretty, kid? We'll see. And we'll see how tough you are, too, when I get my hands on you!"

The threats were designed to scare, and they did. He shuddered over the "pretty boy", and it's implications. His only hope was to stay ahead of the man. Greg flexed his aching fingers and began climbing again. The gathering clouds were finally working for him. They would shield him from view from below. There were outcroppings of rocks, too that would help him climb, and block the mans vision. Surely by now the lab was on alert. He needed to give them more time.


***Crime Lab***

Grissom rushed through the halls, looking in each room as he passed.

"Nick," he called out when he finally found his target. "Come into the break room, and call Warrick as well."

Within moments, the three were gathered together.



"I've been informed by the dispatch operator that Greg started to call in a report from his cell phone, only to hang up suddenly. Dispatch was unable to reestablish contact. It's not like Greg to worry anyone, so I want you, Nick to go with Warrick to his call and see if you can find him. Stay in contact. I don't want to send another rescue party out tonight!"

Even as Nick turned to go, Brass stuck his head into the room.


"I just got a head's up from the State Police. It seems the trooper they sent out to meet Sanders never checked in, and they can't raise him on the radio. I'm on my way out there. Who's with me?"

"I'll drive," Nick said. Warrick just eyed him warily.


"Are you sure? You okay, Bro?" Warrick worried both for Nick and for young Greg. He hoped sincerely that the night wouldn't end with another tragedy for the night shift.

Apparently, Nick hadn't hidden his emotions as well as he thought. Non-the less, he was going out to get Greg back. And he was driving.


"Hang on, Greg," he thought. "I'm coming."

***La Madre Mountain***

At last, Greg grabbed hold of the rusty gate guarding the caves black mouth. He peered in, but was unable to see anything inside. Well, that was probably good. Big Scary Guy wouldn't be able to see Greg, either.

"What I wouldn't do for a flashlight right now."

Greg squeezed through the gap. It was a pretty tight squeeze for him. Even better. It was unlikely that Big Scary Guy could make his way into the cave after him. It worried Greg a bit that maybe his friends wouldn't be able to locate him. No. They were good at what they did. Besides, Nick had worked a case in the area with Grissom a few years back. He knew about the caves. He'd find him. He had to believe that.


It was, if anything, colder inside than out.

"Damn."

He'd hoped for a little insulation helping his comfort level. No such luck. It was wet, too. Great. Edging his way around the rough wall as carefully as he could, he worked his way a little deeper into the dark. Just a little farther and then he'd let himself rest. He took another step on the slimy floor. His foot slid out from under him, sending him falling onto his backside into a puddle of brackish water.

"Damn. Oh, shit…Yuk!" Great! Now he was wet, even colder, and reeking of mildew.

"Perfect!" He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to spend the entire night in such straights.

Huddled in the dark, Greg distracted himself from his misery by picturing Nick. Nick and his terrific body and handsome face. He knew exactly where Nick was going with his gifts (his beautiful jacket, which he was never leaving home without!) and his calls. He was courting Greg. It was a very Southern, gentlemanly way to win Greg's affections. So far, Greg had resisted any thing much more than the flirty, bantering relationship they had fallen into so many years ago. Without a doubt, that counted as mistake number six. At least this one he could correct as soon as he got home. As soon as Nick found him. Please, God. Let Nick find him soon. He hurt, and he was so, so cold. Maybe he could just close his eyes for a few minutes, and then he'd feel better. Just for a little while. Ignoring the little voice in his head that insisted that he stay awake, Greg leaned against the rock wall, and closed his eyes.

***Nick***

After what seemed an eternity, Nick pulled into the gas stations lot. He'd hoped to find Greg, sheepish and shy, with a dead phone and a dead battery. No Greg, no car. Where'd he go? Why hadn't he used the pay phone to call in?

Scanning the ground, Nick found evidence of someone tearing out of the lot at high speed. Two someones. He pulled out his camera to document the tread patterns. As he began snapping, he heard a commotion from behind the station.

"We got a male D.B.! It looks like the trooper!" Brass called out. "The cruisers gone, and his sidearm."

"I found tire tracks haulin' ass out of here," Nick stated. "I'm pretty sure one set is the cruiser. I'd be willing to put money on the smaller set being Greg's Jetta. They head out East of here."

Warrick started back towards the vehicles. "Let's follow the yellow brick road."

"Hold up," Brass interjected. "Somebody's got to stay here with the body until the coroner comes."

"Greg's out there somewhere, depending on us!" Nick protested. "I feel awful about the trooper, man, but he's gone! I need to make sure that Greg stays alive!"

"Okay, okay." Warrick soothed. "I'll stay, you and Brass go."

Brass exchanged a look with Nick, confirming the arrangement. Without another word, the two headed for Brass's car.

***Greg***

Greg snapped out of his doze, flailing wildly for a moment. Where was he? Oh, yeah. His own little piece of heaven. He heard a scrap, followed by cursing.

"You in there somewhere kid? You gotta be in there. Ain't no other place for you to be."

Shit, shit, shit. Greg tried to control his racing heart; fearful somehow it would give him away. He wanted to move farther into the dark recess behind him but knew movement would reveal his position. He struggled to remain still.

"You're pretty slick, I'll give that to you. You knew I couldn't follow you in. You didn't quite figure out how you were gonna get back out, now did you!"

Greg's panic threatened to run away with him when he realized the scraping noise he had heard was Big Scary closing the rusted gate, inch by inch. He was trapped.

"Once I get this closed up, kid, I'm gonna pile up some rocks in front. If you are in there, you're gonna stay there. Or, you could just show yourself. We could get to know each other a little better."

The laugh following that ludicrous statement sent shudders through Greg. He'd take his chances in the closed up cave, thanks. But why hadn't Big Scary used the trooper's gun? Limited bullets, sure. He probably expected to face tougher resistance than Greg down the road. God, don't let him hurt Nick!

It was growing steadily lighter. He could see the silhouette of the man outside the gate. He'd have to risk some movement soon. There was a rock fall a few feet back, carefully Greg shrank back behind it.

"See you around, kid. Or not!"

More cruel laughter. Yeah, what a comedian. So. If no one were able to trace his movement to this cave, he'd die of exposure or thirst. Either way, it was all going to end here. Okay, hiding in here wasn't his best choice. Call it mistake number seven. There was nothing else he could do until someone else arrived outside. He'd just have to wait, give the team time to process the evidence. He trusted that they'd find him. He might as well just go back to sleep for just a little while. He wasn't feeling quite as cold now, just kind of numb. His eyes drifted shut, and he slept.

***Nick***

Nick felt sick. Looking at the twisted ruin that was Greg's car, he knew Greg hadn't walked away without injury. He'd followed the trail of a large person, presumably the killer, from the cruiser to the wreck. Other then some blood spatter on the airbag, there was no sign of Greg. The rocky floor of the ravine was making it difficult to pick up tracks.

"Here!" Brass shouted. "He started up the embankment here."

Nick hurried over from the car to where Brass was pointing. He could see the shoe scrapings, and knew Brass was right.

"Where do you think he was heading?"

Nick thought that over. "There are caves all through here. Maybe he's holed up in one?" He sounded more hopeful than sure.

"Yeah, maybe." Brass didn't even sound all that hopeful, but he was willing to put in some climbing if it meant nailing a cop killer. And maybe, just maybe getting Greg back in one piece.

"So. We go up?"

"We go up," Nick confirmed.

***Brass***

Brass was swearing steadily and colorfully as he scrambled for hand holds. He cursed the unknown suspect, Greg, trash calls in general and the irreparable damage to his slacks and dress shoes. He knew he could have sent Warrick with Nick. They were tough, and looked out for each other. Perversely, he wanted to be where he was. He wanted to be the one to bring this guy down. That desire didn't stop him from cursing.

Brass stayed as low as possible while still able to aim uphill. He wished mightily that Nick were below him on the rise. He didn't want him caught in any crossfire. He noted with approval that Nick's weapon was also out and that he'd gone completely still.

Just above him, Nick suddenly ducked down, hugging the rock wall, "Jim, get down!" he hissed.

The skittering of small stones heralded someone working their way down towards them. As much as Brass wanted that someone to be Greg, he didn't believe it would be. Sure enough, the litany of profanity preceding the arrival of their unknown was most definitely not coming from Sanders.

"Las Vegas P.D.! Stay right where you are! Put your hands where I can see them and sit down. Spread you feet out in front of you. Do it!"

For a moment it looked like the big man would reach for the gun tucked into his waistband. He saw Nick backing up Brass and decided the odds weren't in his favor. He sat.

Brass approached cautiously. "Don't move, not even a twitch. Nick, get the gun…carefully!"

Nick retrieved the gun checked the clip. "Jammed."

"Aw, that's too bad! Where's my CSI?" Brass demanded harshly. He kicked the suspect's feet further apart; taking away any opportunity he had to rise without warning.

"You mean Pretty Boy? He's dead. We had some fun, then I got rid of him. Somewhere over there." He gave a vague gesture off the side of the mountain.

The laughter that followed that horrible statement cut off with a choke as Nick lunged for him, squeezing his hands around the suspect's neck.

"Nick, Nick. Let him go! He's lying; he's trying to jerk your chain! Settle down! Let's just get him back down and turned over to some uniforms. We've got lots of daylight left. We'll keep looking until we find Greg. We'll find him! Calm down!"

Nick nodded. With his white-hot rage fading, he felt a little foolish. He seemed to be reacting to everything with anger lately. Greg had tried to get him to see the therapist he had used after the lab exploded around him. He'd been angry at that suggestion, too. Maybe it was time to rethink that position. He had to gain control of himself or he'd be no use at all to Greg.

"Okay. Let's get this scumbag locked up. I don't want to waste any more time on him. Greg's waiting on us."

***Greg***

Greg woke reluctantly. It was so easy just to sleep, to just wait without moving. He wasn't even shivering anymore. Part of him knew that was a bad sign, that he was in serious trouble, but it didn't seem important. What was that shouting?

"Nick, Nick. Let him go!"

Nick! Nick was here! He knew Nick would come for him! Greg tried to get to his feet, but when he pressed his palms onto the rocks to push himself up, intense pain lanced up his arms. He fell back to the ground, sick and dizzy.

"Fuck, oh fuck. Oh God, oh Nicky, help me! Shit!" He knew he had to move, he had to do something to let Nick know where he was, but the roaring in his ears was making it hard to do anything at all. Gathering what breath he could, Greg began to shout.

"Nick! Nick, I'm here! In the cave! Nick!"

He kept shouting until his throat was raw and all he could muster was the barest of whispers.

"Nick, don't leave me here," he sobbed, broken and alone.


***Nick***

"This is taking too long! I can give you a statement later! I need to get back up there!" Nick was beside himself with frustration and worry. The State Police were getting all territorial, and then Ecklie had to get in his two cents…and daylight was fading while they all stood around having a pissing contest!

"Look! Bottom line…I'm going. Greg's hurt, alone and waiting for us to get help to him! You can do what ever you need to do to me later. I'm out of here."

With that, Nick picked up his gear and headed back towards the slope they had found their suspect on. He was surprised to find Brass and even Ecklie heading out with him.

"There're cadets all over the mountainside, Nick. We'll find him."

He knew Ecklie was right. He just had to get out there himself. He had to help. He had to get Greg back. He prayed he wouldn't be too late.

"I said I was coming, Greg, and I still am. Just hold on a little longer."

***La Madre Mountain***

Greg had cried for what seemed hours. He was exhausted and more than a little disgusted with himself.

"What a wuss!" he hiccupped. "They're going to come. They're going to come." It was his new mantra.

He couldn't feel his hands anymore. He couldn't breath out of his nose and his head was pounding. He sniffed again.

"Pull yourself together, Sanders. They're going to come." His voice was barely a squeak. If he was required to shout out for help, he was screwed. He fought off another attack of panic. He didn't want to die. Why had Nick left him? If he could hear them, surely they could hear him? Couldn't they?

Wait. Someone was calling his name! They hadn't left him! They were here!

"I'm here!" he croaked. Useless! Suddenly, a bright light shown on him.

"I've found him! He's here in this cave! We need to get this gate open! Get the paramedics up here!" Nick shouted orders over his shoulder while pulling at the piled rocks.

"Greg! It's okay buddy. We'll get you out. Just hang in there."

If he didn't hurt so badly, Greg would have laughed. Never had anyone looked as good to him as Nick did now. He could see Warrick, Brass, even Ecklie all gathered behind Nick moving rock to get the gate open. Wow. They'd all turned out!

With out him realizing when it had happened, he wasn't alone anymore. Clearly, he was still drifting in and out. He could feel Nick's arms around him, pulling him upright. He sighed into Nick's chest. "Can I go home now?" he murmured, before sleep claimed him again.

Safe at last.

***Desert Palms Hospital***

Greg woke, again confused, but he was getting used to that. He tried to rub his eyes, but his arms seemed to be too heavy to lift.

"Hey, sunshine. You finally decide to rejoin the living?" Nick's gentle teasing sounded so good.

"Hey." Yeah, he still sounded like a mouse. Very conducive to his plan of seduction. "Where am I?"

"Desert Palms. They flew you in. You slept right through the whole thing." Nick tried to keep it light, to hide the fear they'd all felt when the paramedics had been unable to wake Greg. Hypothermia. "You've got a case of exposure, a concussion, a broken nose, and two-count 'em-two broken arms!"

Okay, now his teasing wasn't sounding as good. It was time to change tacks. "Who was Big Scary Guy?"

"I can answer that." Brass strolled into the room with an armload of flowers. "These are from Wendy, Judy and Jacque. They wanted me to kiss you, too, but…" Brass winked. "Big Scary, as you so aptly named him is one Nathaniel Tucker, the station attendant we sent you to collect prints from. It seems Mr. Tucker has quite the colorful past, and wasn't eager for us to know about it. So, he objected to the trooper's statement that we wanted his prints. We got them anyway."

"So he killed the trooper, and tried to kill me all for nothing." Greg was never going to understand how some people's minds worked.

"Well, he won't be able to hurt anybody else. When you're feeling a little stronger, I'm going to need a full statement," Brass patted his leg awkwardly. "But that can wait for now. I'll be back." One more paternal pat and Greg was alone with Nick.

"Grissom, Sara and Catherine are all coming after shift. Pretty much everyone has been here or will be. You scared us, Greg. Try not to do that again!"

"Yeah, I'll work on that." Gratitude battled with embarrassment. "Thanks. Thanks for finding me. I knew you would, I just kind of lost faith for a little while." He blushed. "I really feel like a wuss, though. And I'm really sorry for all the drama."

"Hey, don't even go there. We're a team, all of us. You did good. You stayed ahead of Big Scary and you gave us time to catch up. I'm proud of you. Really proud."

Greg blushed even darker.

"I have to pee." He blurted, struggling to get out of the bed.

"Whoa, there, partner. Where do you think you're going?" Nick gently pressed Greg back into the pillows.

"You know…" Greg jerked his head towards the tiny bathroom in the corner.

"Un huh." Nick shook his head, waving the plastic urinal back and forth. "You want me to help, or call the nurse?"

"I don't need any help to pee!" Greg declared hotly. "I can manage just fine on my own!"

"Suit yourself." Nick smirked. "I'll just be outside this curtain." He stepped aside and pulled the curtain around the bed.

Greg looked from his casts to the urinal and thought of his aching bladder. Damn, damn, damn. Okay. That made eight mistakes so far. He was having quite a day.

"Nick!"

***Morning***

Greg was sure he was never going to be warm again. The nurses had brought him warmed blankets twice, but he still ached with cold. The doctors told him that stronger pain medication would help with that, but he'd have to wait another twenty-four hours before he could have it. He didn't get the connection between cold and drugs, but if it worked, he hoped twenty-four hours went by fast.

Nick was dozing in the chair next to his bed, with his feet propped up next to Greg's. They could play footsie! Nick snored. And drooled. He was still hot. He gently nudged Nick's foot.

"Huh?" Nick was so not a morning person.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He was saved from explaining why he'd nudged Nick by the arrival of more visitors.

"You look like death." Sara stated baldly.

"You always know how to let a guy know how much he matters to you, Sara." He found himself enveloped in her tight embrace.

"I'm so glad you're going to be okay, Greg." She whispered into his hair. "You're important to me, and you matter more than you will ever know."

Wow, now he was blushing again plus fighting off tears at Sara's unexpected sentiment. It was much easier to accept Catherine's embrace. She had always been affectionate to them all. Grissom held back, looking guilty.

"What, no hug Grissom?" Greg quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'll pass Greg. I'm glad your sense of humor is undamaged even if your person isn't." He moved to the side of Greg's bed, standing next to Sara. "I'm sorry I sent you out on your own. It seems that whenever I break my own rules for my level ones, they end up hurt. I promise it won't happen again."

Well, that explained the guilty look. Greg didn't blame Grissom. Shit happened.

Grissom gently probed, "Have you called your parents yet to let them know how you are? Did you ever call them the last time you were in the hospital?"

Damn. He had always intended to call them. He just never quite had. Yeah, definitely mistake number nine.

"I'll call them when I get home." He wasn't acting guilty, no not at all.

Every pair of eyes in the room was trained on Greg.

"Okay, somebody dial, and I'll talk to them today."

"See that you do, Greg. They deserve to know. I meant what I said before," Grissom said, watching him intently, "they will be proud of you. We all are."

Now he was really struggling against tears. He felt a surge of warmth from Grissom's words. He'd wanted that kind of affirmation for a very long time.

"You should know that as a result of your little adventure, Ecklie had decreed that all field personnel carry side arms at all times. That includes you, Greg. If you want to stay in the field, you will have to carry." Grissom watched for Greg's reaction over the top of his glasses.

Greg thought about carrying his gun in his kit, but figured that would constitute mistake number ten. He'd made enough mistakes already. He concentrated on the warmth of the blankets, his friends, and Nick's hand on his knee. He knew the next few weeks would be hard, and he wasn't looking forward to the changes. But for right now, this moment, his life was unbelievably good.

"When can I go home?"

the end

Next story in series - Building on the Promise.