Title: Past Loves
By: Chapin CSI
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Rating: PG
Spoilers: The Accused Is Entitled; Jackpot; Secrets & Flies.
Note: Mrs. Cardona was mentioned in Dilemma, so this could be a sequel to that story.
Warning: I don't speak English and it shows in my stories; luckily, my readers are very forgiving. Thanks!
Summary: Gil talks about the past and makes some unexpected revelations.

***

Dead Man's Cliff.

Greg chuckled as he drove pass the barely visible wooden sign. It was a suitable name. Not only had a dozen guys jumped to their deaths from the top of the cliff, the place itself looked gloomy, almost sinister. By day it merely looked neglected; by night, the weeds and the stunted trees that struggled along the road made it look ghostly.

It was hard to believe that the cliff had been a popular lovers' lane back in the fifties and sixties but it was true; couples looking for a little privacy used to drive all the way up for a few hours of heavy petting. Then the sexual revolution hit America, and a sudden proliferation of cheap motels rendered places like the cliff obsolete.

According to Gil, (the cliff's unofficial historian), by the mid-seventies, it looked like the only people who bothered to come were those looking for a nice, quiet place to jump from. But even they stopped coming after authorities revealed that those who jumped fell into crevices that made body retrieval difficult and sometimes, impossible.

"Suicides usually want to make a statement with their deaths," Gil theorized, "Anonymity wouldn't suit them."

As for Gil's own interest in the cliff, well, it didn't have anything to do with romance or suicidal tendencies, (thank God). He'd started coming to the cliff because it offered a great view of the city and the sky. He loved to watch the stars. And while there were better places than the cliff to do that, Gil liked it here. It was quiet and secluded –just his kind of place.

He'd kept the cliff a secret for years; he didn't even tell Greg until they were almost six months into their relationship.

Greg was immediately taken in; the cliff looked just like the site for a horror movie or one of those urban legends he was always reading about –the kind that ended with somebody being gored to death.

In short, he liked it. What really blew him away however, was the fact that Gil was willing to share the place with him.

Up until then, it had looked like Gil would back away from the relationship at the first sign of trouble. Instead, he'd brought Greg here, and for the young man it was like a sign that Gil was serious about the relationship.

Things took a turn for the better after that, and now the relationship seemed rock-solid.

In fact, today was their first anniversary.

Greg briefly wondered if Gil's dinner invitation had anything to do with this but he dismissed the thought; surely Gil was too busy to keep track of these things. Greg himself had rarely cared about anniversaries and stuff like that before, but it seemed that being with Gil brought out the romantic in him.

No matter what the occasion was, Greg was glad that Gil had planned this impromptu dinner tonight of all nights. A pesky seminar had kept Greg away from the lab for a week, while Gil had his usual overload of lab work and field work, plus a few court appearances to top it all off. They'd barely seen each other lately.

Gil's Tahoe was in its usual place. Gil parked his car next to it and then grabbed a paper bag he'd brought along. He took a cautious look outside before opening the door. They'd never actually seen coyotes, but they'd found traces of their presence there.

But Gil wasn't as careful; he was already leaning across the passenger seat and opening the door of the Tahoe, forcing Greg to hurry.

"You shouldn't just open the door, you know," Greg admonished as he climbed in.

Gil rolled his eyes.

"You've seen too many slasher movies," he said, "You're always expecting some guy with a hook to jump out of the bushes."

"Hey, it could happen. I'm not gonna risk getting my balls ripped off me. Besides -" But Gil cut him short with a kiss - not a casual, every-day kind of kiss but a serious one that let him know just how much he'd missed him.

Greg managed to close the door and place his bag on the floor, all without breaking the kiss; then, with his hands finally free, he did his best to show Gil that he'd been missed too.

"Just like old times at the cliff, huh?" Greg muttered after a moment. "Wonder how many kids came up here to make out -" He pecked Gil's lips one last time before leaning back on the passenger door to admire the view –not the city below, but the man sitting beside him. Gil looked cute with his cheeks flushed and his lips slightly swollen.

Greg sighed.

It never ceased to amaze him, the fact that he'd managed to do what others had only dreamed of: get Gil Grissom to lower his defenses.

Greg chuckled when he noticed that their recent exertions had left Gil with his hair sticking out and his clothes in disarray.

"You need to comb your hair," Greg said. He pretended to lick his fingers before reaching out to pat Gil's hair down.

"Very funny," Gil said sarcastically. "I was going to say you needed some serious combing too but that's your usual hairstyle."

Greg smiled. He leant closer to Gil, who wrapped an arm around him.

"So," Greg said a while later, "How did you manage to get a night off?"

"I didn't. I'm on call on tonight."

"Oh, shit," Greg sighed, "I was hoping we'd have all night."

"Can't do that," Gil said apologetically. "Sorry."

"It's ok," Greg said. He was about to kiss Gil again when he noticed something. "What's that smell?" He asked. He glanced around and located the source, a large paper bag on the back seat.

Greg visibly perked up when he saw the logo on the bag; it was from his favorite deli.

"It's that...?"

"I told you we'd be having dinner," Gil said, reaching for the bag.

"But that place is practically on the opposite side of the city -"

"Yeah, well," Gil shrugged, "They got the best rib sandwiches."

"Ribs?" Greg echoed as Gil handed him a sub wrapped in metallic paper, "Wow," he smiled, "You really love me, don't you."

Gil smiled back. He opened the cooler that lay by his feet and took a couple of soda cans.

"I almost brought you some shrimp salad," he said. "But then I remembered it doesn't always travel well."

"That's ok. I love ribs," Greg said, managing to chew and talk at the same time.

They ate in silence for a while, admiring the view. The city looked beautiful from up here. Peaceful.

Inevitably, Greg wondered how many crimes were being committed while they were up here, eating and smiling at each other. He turned to Gil and almost made a comment but didn't. Gil was in a relaxed mood, simply taking in the sights and enjoying his turkey breast sandwich. Greg didn't want to ruin that.

"This was a great idea," Greg said, crumpling the paper into a ball. "It was a great sandwich, too."

"I got some coffee, too," Gil said, taking a thermos he'd kept between their seats. "Not Blue Hawaiian but close."

"How close?"

"Not too close," Gil admitted good-naturedly as he unscrewed the lid of the thermos.

"That reminds me," Greg said, picking the paper bag he'd brought with him. "Want a cookie?"

Gil was pouring coffee into a Styrofoam cup but Greg's words made him pause.

"A cookie?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Greg said, looking into the bag, "I got thin mints, peanut butter, chocolate -"

"Oh. A cookie."

"Yeah," Greg said with a frown, "That's what I said."

Gil shrugged uncomfortably.

"For a moment I thought 'cookie' was some veiled reference to sex."

"You did?" Greg was surprised. Gil's old-fashioned ideas about sex and love had prevented them from resorting to quickies before, but there was always a first time for everything. Greg paused for a moment, considering the situation. "We could do something on the back seat, I guess," he said doubtfully. "But if you're on call -"

"I am," Gil said somewhat regretfully. "It's ok. I'll have a cookie."

"Sure," Greg said, "Do you want a thin mint? Peanut butter with or without chocolate chips? Oatmeal?"

"How many boxes do you have in there?" Gil asked in amazement.

"Six," Greg said, handing him the one on the top.

"Let me guess. You had an encounter with Mrs. Cardona's niece."

Mrs. Cardona was one of Greg's neighbors, an elderly woman he was always doing odd jobs for. One of her nieces was a girl Scout.

"Actually, no," Greg said. "I met Danny today; these are his daughter's."

Gil was opening the box but paused at the mention of that name.

"Dan Harding, your ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Greg said, "He was at the seminar, selling optical equipment."

"One of your ex-boyfriends, that is," Gil muttered.

"Right."

"One of your many ex-boyfriends who keep popping up -"

"Well -"

"So far I've met Frank, Dennis -"

"All right, all right," Greg interjected, "You make it sound like there's a dozen guys out there!"

Grissom smiled to himself. He liked to tease Greg –he always got heated responses.

The young man was simultaneously opening cookie boxes and mumbling protests.

"Just because you never had a boyfriend before I came along doesn't mean -"

"Says who?" Gil retorted.

Greg looked up just in time to see Gil wince at what he'd just said. He obviously didn't mean to reveal this much about himself.

Greg was stunned.

"You mean there's an ex-boyfriend of yours out there?" he asked.

Gil looked like he regretted ever opening his mouth.

He tried to stall.

"I'm fifty, Greg," he said dryly. "What do you think?"

"I think that you've got a lot to explain," Greg glared.

Grissom kept stalling. He finished opening the box of cookies, picked a couple of cookies and chewed.

Greg didn't insist. He knew he'd get his answer in the end. Meanwhile, he, too, opened a box of cookies and soon the only sounds in the car came from boxes being opened and cookies being eaten.

"So," Greg said casually, "You had a boyfriend."

"Yes." Gil said reluctantly.

"How come you've never mentioned him?" Greg asked, "I mean, you know all about my exes -"

"I only know about them because they've kept in touch with you," Gil glared.

"Yeah, well, I believe in friendship." Greg said good-naturedly, "Just because you don't sleep with somebody anymore doesn't mean you can't have a cordial relationship with them, or talk about them, right?" He glanced at Gil. "Right?"

Gil didn't reply. He didn't even look at Greg; he kept his gaze on the city below.

Greg looked thoughtfully at Grissom. He was wondering if Gil might be jealous, but he didn't hold on to that thought for long. Gil was too rational. Besides, this wasn't about Greg's boyfriends.

"So," Greg said, "What about this ex of yours?"

Gil looked up reluctantly.

"What about him?" he asked, stalling again.

Greg didn't say anything; he simply gave Grissom a look –a look that said his patience was running thin.

It did the trick.

"There's nothing much to tell," Gil said reluctantly, "It's all in the past. And I don't dwell on the past –as you know."

"That means you had a bad break-up," Greg said wisely. "So? What did he do?" When Gil didn't reply, he insisted, "Oh, come on, spill! You can't just mention this guy and then not say anything. You owe me, you know. Up until two minutes ago I thought I was your first boyfriend. The least you can do is tell me the truth about-"

"There were others," Gil blurted out.

Greg paused for a moment.

"Others?"

Gil nodded.

"How many others?" Greg asked. "Two?"

"Greg, there's no point in -"

"Three?"

"- talking about it."

"Four?" Greg continued. "Five? Six? Eight?" He waited but got no response, "Oh, my God, Grissom," he said in disgust, "Eight boyfriends?"

"No," Grissom glared. "Not eight, Greg."

"Then how many? Come on!" he added when he noticed Gil's reluctance, "What's the big deal? It's not like they're about to pop back into your life again, are they?"

"Actually -" Gil started but stopped.

Greg put down the cookie he was about to munch on and looked at Grissom.

"Actually?" he prompted. When Gil didn't continue, Greg started to have a bad feeling about the whole situation. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind.

Greg froze.

"Oh, no," he said, shaken by a sudden realization. "I've met these guys," he said. He looked at Gil, fervently hoping to hear some sort of denial, but unfortunately Grissom only nodded.

Greg gaped.

"I know these guys?" he asked.

"A couple of them, yeah."

Face after face popped up in Greg's mind, only to be dismissed after a brief consideration. He wanted to ID Gil's mystery men but the effort was pointless because, frankly, he couldn't imagine anybody but him with Grissom.

He was about to give up when another thought occurred to him.

A terrible thought.

"Oh, no," he said again.

"What?"

Greg started slamming his forehead on the dashboard.

"Oh, no. Oh, shit -" he groaned.

"What?" Gil insisted.

Greg looked up, "It's Ecklie, isn't it?"

"What? No!" Grissom said indignantly, "It's not Ecklie! How can you think that I would be interested in Ecklie?"

"Hey, it could happen," Greg said defensively, "All that rivalry could be only a cover. Frankly, sometimes you act like there's something going on between you two -"

"Yeah; mutual dislike."

"Yeah, well, you're way too passionate about your mutual dislike, if you ask me. Speaking of which, there's another guy you're just as passionate about disliking: Horatio Caine."

Gil was too indignant for words.

"Ok, ok," Greg said soothingly , "So it's not him. Who is it, then? The Under Sheriff?" he started, "Nah. Doc Robbins? Hmmm. Nope. Bobby Dawson? Could be," he nodded, "I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. Or what about Brass? Nnn-no. It's got to be someone you're not friendly with -"

Greg was being deliberately absurd. It was only a matter of time before Gil realized that if he didn't say something soon, he'd spend the rest of the night listening to this.

Life was just too short for that.

"Mark Thayer," Gil said at last.

"Mark Thayer? Who's -" Greg stopped abruptly when he recalled who Mark Thayer was. He frowned. "The guy who manipulated the evidence in the Joanna Whitson case?"

Gil nodded reluctantly.

Greg finally understood Gil's reticence. Thayer's actions had been enough of an embarrassment for Entomologists everywhere; to admit a romantic involvement had to be even worse.

"Mark Thayer," Greg repeated. "Wow. It's hard to believe. I mean, he's handsome but come on. He's a jerk."

"And that's why I didn't want to mention him," Gil glared.

Greg eyed him curiously.

"So, is that why you were so passionate about the case? Because of sour grapes?"

"It wasn't sour grapes," Gil said crossly. "He was lying under oath; he was giving Entomologists a bad reputation. I couldn't let that happen."

Greg was silent for a moment.

"I saw the trial on Court TV," he said. "This guy smirked every time he looked at you. And those icy glances of yours -"

"Well, there's no love lost between us," Grissom shrugged.

"Yeah, I could see that," Greg paused for a moment. "So, what happened?"

Surprisingly, Gil didn't stall anymore.

"We were writing a paper together," he explained. "It was supposed to be about the damages caused by a Bayher insecticide on Idaho potato fields. But Mark had his own agenda; he wanted to turn our findings over to Bayher –for a substantial fee."

"Oh."

"He tried to talk me into it but I refused. I didn't sign the paper, which brought his own deal to an end, and that was the end of the relationship."

Greg didn't think it was that simple, but didn't insist. There was something else he wanted to discuss.

"He was wearing a wedding band," he said gently.

Gil smiled faintly.

"Yeah," he nodded, "He got engaged to a Bayher executive shortly before we broke up."

"Shit," Greg muttered. "He was playing both sides, then. What a jerk. "

"Yeah, like Danny," Gil retorted.

Greg smiled faintly.

"Touché," he conceded. "But I knew all along that Danny was bisexual. Did you know that about Thayer?"

"No," Gil admitted reluctantly. "I didn't." He glanced at Greg, "He said we could still see each other," he added ironically.

Greg snorted.

"Jerk," he muttered. Then he frowned, "Come to think of it, Danny told me we could still see each other too. But I was ok with it," he added reluctantly. It wasn't something he was proud of, but he felt like being honest. "I didn't care that he was married, but… I don't know. Once he started having kids it didn't seem right, anymore."

Greg was silent for a moment. "Do you think Thayer really wanted you around despite his being married?"

Gil shook his head.

"He didn't ask me to stay because of his feelings for me, Greg. He was simply hoping that I'd change my mind about the paper. All he cared about was the deal with Bayher."

"Wow. No wonder you were burned," Greg said sympathetically. He kept his gaze on Gil for a moment. "Did you love this guy?"

"Did you love Danny?"

Greg smiled faintly.

"Ok," he said gently, "I won't ask." They were silent for a moment. "Are you gonna tell me who the other guy is?"

Gil took a deep breath, then smiled a little, as if in anticipation of Greg's reaction.

"Phillip Gerard."

"PHILLIP GERARD?" Greg's eyes almost popped out. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. "But… How… When…"

It seemed that Greg couldn't get one single question out, then settled for the one that mattered. "Why?"

Gil shrugged.

"I was young," he said, "He was knowledgeable; brilliant, even."

"Oh," Greg said, "Kind of like you and me, then."

"It's not the same thing," Grissom said, frowning at the thought.

"So, what happened? Did you find somebody younger? Did he find somebody younger?"

"No," Gil smiled. "It wasn't like that. We had a good personal relationship, but working together put a strain on it."

"How so?"

"I wanted to have a more active role in the investigations. You see, at the time, CSIs were cops with no specialized knowledge; in Phillip's opinion, they were no better than trash collectors who picked up evidence and brought it to the real scientists. I thought we should change that. I believed scientists should go to the crime scene and pick the evidence themselves."

"Hell, yeah."

"But Phillip disagreed," Gil said, "He said my place was at the lab. He would reject every suggestion I made."

"He didn't want to lose control," Greg said knowingly, "He wanted to keep you confined, isolated…" he smiled, "He wanted to keep you bare-foot and pregnant, so to speak."

Gil smiled at the figure of speech.

"I suppose." he said. "He wouldn't take any of my suggestions seriously. In the end I simply looked for another job."

"Just like that?" Greg asked. "Wasn't that difficult? I mean, I'm guessing he played a big role in your life."

"He did," Gil admitted. He paused for a moment. "It wasn't a rash decision, Greg. I spent months trying to change his mind. In the end, neither one of us wanted to stay in the relationship anymore."

"Did he ever admit he was wrong? I mean, CSIs are scientists now."

"We've never talked about it." Gil shook his head, "Looking back, it's hard to believe we were ever involved with each other at all."

"So…" Greg said after a moment, "Is there anyone else I should know about?"

"No," Gil said. "There were others over the years but... Nothing serious."

"So you didn't have a serious relationship after Mark Thayer -"

"Not really. The last time I considered the possibility was when I met Alan, but -"

"Alan who?"

"Alan Brooks."

"Alan Brooks, Alan Brooks -" Greg didn't place him at first, "What, the sheriff from Jackpot?"

"Yeah. His brother wasn't the only one keeping secrets," he said ironically.

Greg paused for a moment. He was counting months.

"That was two years ago," he said. "How did you manage it? You didn't stay long after you solved the case."

"He came to Las Vegas for the deposition and the hearings. We went out for a drink, and we started talking. Back in Jackpot people assumed that I was married and so he started asking questions about my hypothetical wife. I fielded the questions until I suddenly realized I wasn't fooling him."

"Oh. So. You two -"

Gil nodded.

"He wasn't a jerk, by the way," he said humorously. He drank the reminder of the coffee, while Greg watched in silence.

"So," Greg said after a moment, "Did you love him?"

"I liked him," Gil said simply.

"What about Gerard?"

Gil's mouth opened but he didn't immediately speak. Seeing his reluctance, Greg decided to help.

"You loved him, right?" He wasn't really asking.

Gil looked into his coffee cup, as if the answer was in there.

"I did," he said at last.

"And you loved Mark Thayer."

Gil nodded. He was silent for a moment, then he looked at Greg.

"But I loved my work more." He said. His gaze stayed on Greg for a moment, then turned away, "Everything was fine as long as they didn't come between me and my job, or whatever I considered my duty at the time. I would have stayed with Mark even after he got married; it was his deal with Bayher that I couldn't take. And I would have stayed with Gerard if he had let me carry out my ideas."

Greg studied Gil's profile for a moment.

"I better not try to come between you and the job, then." Greg said good-naturedly.

Grissom smiled but didn't comment.

They were silent for a moment.

Greg opened his bag again.

"Want to try peanut butter now?" he offered.

They ate more cookies and watched the stars and the city below. They talked a little but mostly, they enjoyed each other's company in silence.

At least, Gil seemed quite content.

Greg wasn't. He'd just learned a hard lesson tonight. Up until then, he'd assumed that Gil had never been in a relationship. He liked to think that he alone had conquered Gil's elusive heart. After all, Gil's feelings seemed so intense, it truly felt like he'd never been in love before.

But Gil had loved before –several times, in fact. And not only that. Now it turned out that he had a weakness for blue-eyed men.

Brown-eyed Greg didn't like that one bit. He felt pretty stupid, in fact. Every assumption he'd made about Gil was wrong.

And yet, that wasn't the worst part. After all, he'd dealt with ex-boyfriends before; neither Gerard nor Thayer or any other guy from Gil's past really worried him.

The problem was that he had a more powerful rival to contend with: Gil's job.

It wasn't like he was planning to do anything that would put him at odds with Gil at the lab, but what if? What if one day something unexpected happened, something that forced Gil to choose between the two? Gil would always choose the lab.

Greg took a deep, mournful breath.

Gil glanced at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Greg said, "Just tired."

"Yeah. It's late," Gil agreed. "We've got to go back."

Together, they put their trash in a bag.

"It looks like a slow night," Greg remarked at one point, "They didn't page you even once"

Gil eyed the pager on his belt.

"It's my lucky night," he smiled.

-----

Greg came to the lab early the following morning. He needed to borrow a book from the lab's library.

He was on his way out, when he saw Conrad Ecklie stomp into Gil's office. Ecklie looked pissed, always a bad sign.

Greg would have never dreamed of eavesdropping but if Gil was in trouble, he needed to know. He casually walked past Gil's office and then he retraced a couple of steps. He pretended to be engrossed on a poster on the wall while leaning sideways to better catch the conversation inside.

" -and remind me again where you were last night?" Ecklie was saying, "I paged you five times."

"I must have accidentally turned off my pager," Grissom said casually.

"You also accidentally turned off your cell phone," Ecklie retorted sarcastically, "I started paging you at ten, Gil. You should have been here at eleven; instead, they tell me you didn't come in till two in the morning. In case you've forgotten, being on call means being available to the-"

"I was on call as a courtesy, Conrad," Gil replied curtly, "Besides, Catherine was here; If you trusted her the way you trust me, you would have known she's perfectly capable of handling any emergency -"

"I wasn't paging her; I was paging you -"

Greg started to relax. Ecklie was simply doing his little 'I'm-the-boss-here' routine, and he'd already heard that one before.

Thankfully, it didn't look like Gil was in any real trouble.

As for Greg, he was smiling as he left the lab.

He was thinking of Gil's relaxed attitude the night before, and the casual glance he gave his pager when Greg made a comment on it.

Lucky night? Yeah, thanks to Gil's foresight.

He didn't accidentally turn off his pager; he did it on purpose. He'd planned it all in advance so he could have a quiet dinner in the most secluded place he knew, with the man he loved.

A one-year anniversary dinner perhaps? It had to be.

Not that Gil's motives mattered. What really mattered –what made Greg's smile widen as he stepped outside- was that for a few hours at least, Gil Grissom had chosen him over the job.

'And that's true love,' Greg thought as he walked to his car.

THE END

***