Title: Revelations
Author: Kimberley
Pairing: Nick/Gil
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Nick and Gil uncover feelings they didn't know they had.
Timeframe: Set after the end of Season Five and may contain spoilers to that point.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. The author is just having fun.

***

"Gil?"

Grissom looked up from the work on his desk to see Catherine leaning into the open doorway. "Catherine," he acknowledged with a slightly questioning look.

"I need to talk to you."

He nodded and waited until she'd made her way into the office, taking careful note of the strained expression she wore. "What is it?"

She lowered herself into a chair across from him and studied him in silence for a moment before speaking. "Why did you want the team back together?"

The question took him by surprise but he tried not to let it show. "You stated the answer within your question. We're a team."

"We were a team," she corrected. "A team you were in charge of."

"And now we're both in charge of that same team," Gil pointed out with a small frown. "Is that what this is about? Having to share the role of supervisor?"

She shook her head with a sigh. "I wouldn't have a problem with that, but that's not what's happening here, is it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Come on, Gil, you can't possibly be that blind," she practically snapped. "When you were the sole supervisor, you had to deal with all aspects of the role, regardless of how you may have disliked them. Now you've got the chance to pick and choose and it's ruining what made us a good team in the first place."

He was momentarily taken aback, not only by the words but also the anger with which they'd been delivered. "If this is about the paperwork, I can...."

She got to her feet in a huff. "Wake up, Gil! This isn't about the damned paperwork, it's about Nick!"

"Nick?" he repeated in obvious confusion.

"Why the Hell didn't you just put in to have Warrick transferred back to your team? Not subtle enough for you? You had to drag Nick along for the ride just so no one would be any the wiser?"

He got to his feet, then, his expression one of concern mixed with bewilderment. "Catherine, I have no idea what you're talking about. It's obvious we have something to discuss here, but we can't do that until you start making some sense."

"Me?" she exclaimed incredulously. "You want me to start making sense? You're the one who wanted him back on the team so, what, you could ignore him to his face? What kind of perverted sense does that make?"

He frowned. "Are we talking about Nick, now, or Warrick?"

She gaped at him in disbelief for a moment. "You really don't have a clue, do you?"

"Apparently not," he replied. "But if it has you this upset, we obviously need to discuss it. Can we do that in a calm and civilized manner?" He took note of the fact that her expression hadn't softened any. "Please?"

She shook her head and dropped into the chair she'd vacated earlier. "Fine."

He slowly took his seat, not once taking his eyes from her. "Good." He gave them both a moment to collect themselves before he spoke again. "You said this is about Nick. How, exactly?"

She looked like she was about to snap at him again, but, instead, she took a deep breath and blew it out. "Look," she finally said, her tone resigned. "We all know he's not your favourite person to work with, but pretending he doesn't exist is making things difficult for everyone, not just Nick."

"I'm not doing any such thing," he replied, bristling.

"Aren't you?" she challenged. "When was the last time you talked to him?"

"I talk to him every day."

She shook her head. "No, you used to, even if it was just to hand out assignments or ask about his findings. Since he's been back, I've handled every single one of his assignments."

He frowned. "That can't be right."

"No, it's not right," she replied, "but it's the truth. He's been back for three weeks, Gil, and you haven't worked with him once in that time. Even before that, I don't know that you've ever had an actual conversation with him that didn't involve a case."

He was still having a hard time believing what she was saying. "It wasn't intentional, I just ..."

"Can't forgive him?" she supplied quietly after a long pause.

Blue eyes snapped up to meet hers, anger and shock flashing in their depths.

"That's it, isn't it?" she challenged. "You're punishing him for getting caught in Gordon's trap."

"Of course not," he replied irritably. "That could have been any one of us; you know that. It had nothing to do with Nick, personally."

"You're right," she said curtly. "Gordon's intentions didn't target Nick personally, but he's the one who suffered in that box. He's the one still suffering because you refuse to let him out!"

"How can you say that? You know what I went through – what we all went through to get him back."

"And just how long do you plan on punishing him for what you went through, Gil? When is it enough? When he finally realizes that you don't want him here? That you never really did?" She got to her feet and pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her blazer, tossing it onto his desk with a glare. "Well, congratulations!"

Without another word, she turned and stormed from the room leaving a bewildered Gil Grissom in her wake. Slowly he unfolded the paper and began to read, his throat tightening as he took in the official request for transfer of one Nick Stokes, CSI level 3.

He took some time to think about everything Catherine had said and a lot of things she hadn't. He hadn't realized how little he'd interacted with Nick since the incident with Gordon. He'd visited him once in the hospital and once again while he was home recovering, but they'd been short, uncomfortable visits, filled with uneasy silences and stilted small talk. He'd assumed things would get back to normal once Nick returned to work and they had, or at least he'd thought they had. Now that he'd been forced to think about it, he realized that he'd been distancing himself from the younger man far more than he had in the past.

And he'd distanced himself plenty in the past.

... we all know he's not your favourite person to work with ...

Did Catherine really believe he didn't enjoy working with Nick? More importantly, did Nick believe it? Not that he could actually fault the conclusion. He'd never given even the slightest indication otherwise. He'd bucked the higher-ups to keep Warrick on the team even after the mistake he'd made that had cost Holly Gribbs her life. He'd supported Sarah through her anger management issues and Catherine through a variety of personal dilemmas.

But he would have done the same for Nick.

Wouldn't he?

He searched his memory for something that would put his mind at ease, but couldn't remember ever really going to bat for Nick. There was the murder of Kristy Hopkins, of course, the prostitute whom Nick had befriended and then slept with.

and not so much as a word of condolence from you... just censure and chastisement

He closed his eyes against the little voice in his head and tried to come up with something that would dispel what it was trying so hard to imply. There was the incident with Nigel Crane. He'd offered the only comfort he could under the circumstance, explaining to Nick that it hadn't really been about him but about what he represented to Crane.

you dismissed his feelings, you mean... so much as told him that he had no right to feel violated. You left him alone in the interrogation room knowing full well that he couldn't go home, not to an active crime scene, not to a place where he'd been secretly watched for days, maybe weeks... his most private moments fodder for a man sick enough to kill a woman and offer her body up to Nick as a gift...

Bile rose in his throat as his inner voice continued to taunt him, persisted in showing him how insensitive he'd been toward Nick on more than one occasion.

it could have been any one of us in that box, Nick. It wasn't about you...

The words he'd spoken to Nick were true, of course, but in his present state of mind, he was hearing them for the first time as Nick might have.

it was a crime against the department... the bites, the venom, the terror... suck it up and take one for the team... you're a grown man, Nick, quit whining

He'd spoken those last words to Nick on a case years ago in response to a legitimate question. How many other times over the years had he belittled his opinions? Dismissed his feelings? Made him feel like a lesser member of the team?

A sudden wave of nausea had him leaning toward the wastebasket throwing up bile and bitter coffee until there was nothing left but a deep ache that no amount of retching would relieve.

When is it enough? When he finally realizes that you don't want him here? That you never really did?

"That's not true," he whispered, closing his eyes as Catherine's words played themselves over and over in his mind. "It's not true."

"Grissom? Gil? Can you hear me?"

He opened his eyes slowly, momentarily disoriented as Nick's concerned face peered at his from out of the near blackness surrounding them. Even at night, his office was never that dark

"Gil?"

There was such an urgency attached to his name that he felt obligated to answer. "Nick?"

"Thank God," the younger man breathed. "You had me worried there for a while."

Realizing that he was laying flat on his back, he tried to sit up, only to be overcome by dizziness.

"Easy," Nick soothed, taking his shoulders in a grip both gentle and firm. "Let me help you."

"What happened?" Gil groaned, finally in a seated position, his back resting against something hard and rough.

"Tunnel collapsed," Nick replied. "You took a good hit to the head."

"Tunnel?" He closed his eyes and tried to remember. "The Braxton case." While he remembered working the case, he had no recollection of returning to the abandoned mine.

"Right," Nick replied, a relieved note to his voice. "When Catherine couldn't reach you on your cell, she sent me out here to tell you they picked up Haskins."

"And the tunnel collapsed," Gil surmised. A sudden thought occurred to him and he strained to make out the other man's features only barely illuminated by the flashlight he held. "Are you OK?"

There was a slight pause before Nick answered. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Nick..."

He sighed at the warning tone. "It's just a scratch, Gris. Really, I'm OK. I'm more worried about that head injury. You were out for a while."

"I'm a little dizzy, but not disoriented," Gil assured him. He paused for a second. "Is it Thursday the 16th?"

Nick smiled a little, more relieved than amused. "Yeah."

"Aside from the events directly preceding the injury, I don't seem to be suffering any memory lapses. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"I tried to call out, but there's no signal," Nick explained almost apologetically. "Catherine knows we're here, though, so it's only a matter of time before she sends someone looking."

Grissom moved his head carefully to look around the small area. Immovable walls and piles of rock and debris surrounded them, leaving only the small pocket of habitable space they currently found themselves in. "Then I guess we wait."

"Are you comfortable enough?" He took off his jacket and rolled it up, placing it between Gil's head and where it rested against the rough stone. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied. "But promise me you'll take it back if you start to get cold."

"I promise." He knew how low the temperature could drop at night.

"What time is it?"

Nick pressed the button on his watch and it lit up with a soft, blue glow. "3:17"

The last thing he remembered was Terri Braxton's autopsy. That had been scheduled for 11:30. He was missing a few hours and trying to reconcile that with the strange dream he'd had. If, in fact, it had been a dream. Maybe the events had actually occurred during the missing time and were merely being distorted in his memory by the blow to his head.

He doubted it, though. It was still too vivid in his recollection while the rest of the day's events were more distant, if there at all. He was convinced that the conversation with Catherine had never actually happened, but that didn't make anything dream-Catherine had said any less true. He had been avoiding Nick. It had just taken a head injury to jar his subconscious into admitting it to the rest of his brain. The question was, could he still fix things? Or would Nick's transfer request soon be making an appearance on his desk in a macabre form of déjà vu?

"You all right there, Boss?"

He didn't realize how long he must have been lost in his own thoughts until he heard Nick's voice. "Yeah. How about you?"

Nick glanced at where a piece of white material, probably from his t-shirt, was wrapped around his left bicep. "I told you, just a scratch. No big deal."

"I wasn't asking about your arm," Grissom said quietly.

Brown eyes flitted uncomfortably around the small space. "I'm OK."

He doubted that. Being buried alive twice in the span of a few months would have most people clawing at the walls. "At least you're not alone this time," he said gently, hating that it was the only reassurance he could offer.

Nick nodded, but said nothing for a long moment. "It does make a difference," he finally said, his voice not much more than a whisper. "Not that I'd wish this on anyone," he hurried to add. "I'm sorry as Hell that you're trapped down here, but ..."

"No need to explain, Nick." He was quiet for a moment. "For what it's worth, I would have spared you this, given the chance."

His only response was another silent nod but he could see the other man's jaw clench in the dim light. Nick was doing his best to keep it together and Gil hated that there was nothing he could do to deliver the younger man from the fear. One more scan of the area confirmed that there was no way they were going anywhere until help arrived and he decided the best thing to do would be to make the time pass as quickly and comfortably as possible. The first order of business on that front would be to get Nick's mind off the fact that he was once again confined to a small, dark, underground prison.

"Know any good jokes?"

The laugh was short but welcome as Nick shook his head slowly. "None that I can remember just now."

"Stories, then? You must have quite a wealth of them, growing up the youngest of seven."

"One little nap in the middle of the day not enough for you?" Nick teased. "Now you want me to bore you with stories about my life?"

"You wouldn't be boring me, Nick. I'm interested." He tried to ignore the look of blatant disbelief on the other man's face, knowing that he had every right to be skeptical since Gil had never shown even a modicum of interest in the past. "It'll help pass the time for both of us. Tell me about them, please?"

Those words did the trick. Nick breathed out a long sigh and started talking, beginning with his parents and working his way through the list of siblings, 'introducing' each one in turn. By the time he was finished nearly an hour later, Gil felt like he knew them, if only through Nick's eyes.

"And that's it," Nick concluded. "The Stokes family in a nutshell."

"What about you?"

Nick glanced up at him with a small frown. "What about me?"

"I know that your mother dreamed of being a dancer when she was a child, that your brother wanted to play pro football, that one of your sisters wanted to go into the military. So, what about you? What did a young Nick Stokes aspire to be?"

Nick shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. I mean, I wanted to be a fireman when I was really little, then I thought maybe I'd be a lawyer like Cisco, but by the time I got to college, I knew I wanted to be in law enforcement. I'd always been a science geek, and forensics was the perfect way to do both."

Gil considered that for a moment. "Are you happy where you are?" he asked quietly.

Nick huffed a mirthless laugh and looked pointedly at their surroundings. "At the moment? Or in general?"

"In general. Catastrophic events notwithstanding."

He took a deep breath and slowly blew it out, giving himself time to think about his answer. "I guess. I mean, I love the work and I think ...no, I know I do a good job, but ..."

"But?"

Nick studied his hands for a moment before looking up to meet Gil's gaze over the glow of the flashlight between them. "To be honest, I sometimes wonder if I could do an even better job somewhere else."

"You mean other than forensics?" Gil asked with a small frown. "Or somewhere other than Vegas?"

"Neither. I don't want to leave forensics and Vegas is my home now. I just ... do you ever feel like you're in limbo? Not moving forward or back, just ... there?"

"Is that how you feel?"

He was silent for a moment and Grissom didn't think he was going to get an answer. When it came, it was so soft he had to strain to hear it.

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes as in since Gordon?" Gil asked carefully.

"No, since..." He suddenly shook his head and huffed a small, strained laugh. "You know what? Forget I said anything. It's just the circumstances ... being ... here. Talking to hear myself talk, that's all. It ... I guess maybe I'm a little more freaked than I thought."

"That's understandable," he conceded gently. "But if you want to talk about it..."

"I don't, OK?" Nick said sharply.

"Ok." Gil watched the other man, taking note of the repetitive clenching of his jaw and the way he fisted his hands. He found himself comparing the mannerisms to those he'd seen on the live feed while Nick was trapped in the box underground and came to the conclusion that this wasn't fear or desperation so much as anger.

"Without going into the reasons you think you'd be more effective somewhere else," Grissom hedged cautiously, "have you been thinking of transferring?"

Nick's gaze fixed on his, colder and harder than he'd ever seen it. "Why would you ask that?"

After quick consideration, Gil opted for the truth. "I had a dream," he said simply. "You'd requested a transfer from the team."

He looked more surprised than relieved. "Oh."

"So, have you?"

He could probably lie, but something in the man's tone was begging the truth. "A time or two."

"Because of me?"

"Huh?"

Gil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "In my dream... you were leaving because of me."

"In your dream, did I give you anything more specific?" he asked, somewhat irritably.

"Not you. Catherine."

"Catherine was transferring?"

"Catherine told me you were transferring."

"Because of you."

"Yes."

Nick shook his head. "This is crazy, you know that, right?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"So, what do you want me to say?" Nick asked with a sigh.

"The truth. When you thought about transferring, did it have anything to do with me?"

"If I say yes, you'll give me the whole 'you need to do the job for yourself' speech and I've already heard that one."

There was no mistaking the bitterness in the words. "No, I wouldn't," Gil assured him. "Maybe I'd give you the whole 'I'm sorry I've been such an ass' speech."

Nick's eyes widened somewhat, genuinely surprised by the words. "That would be a new one," he conceded once he'd found his voice.

"I'm thinking it's long overdue."

Nick just looked at him for a moment, his expression showing nothing. "You think we're both going to die here, don't you?"

"What?" Gil asked, wincing slightly as the exclamation made his head throb. "No, Nick. I don't think we're going to die. Not here. Catherine and the others know where we are; they'll find us."

"Then what's with the deathbed-type confession?"

Gil considered how best to answer. "Let's just say this experience has indirectly allowed me to see things I'd been trying not to."

"Like?"

"Like the fact that I've been avoiding you since the incident with Gordon."

Nick allowed an embarrassed laugh. "Hard to know what to say to a man after you've seen him bawling like a baby, huh?"

"I hope you don't really believe that," Grissom said somewhat grimly.

Nick looked down at his hands, refusing to meet the other man's gaze. "Why, then?" he asked.

"I was ... angry," Gil finally said after a long pause. "I guess maybe I still am."

"At me?" Nick asked, looking up in surprise. "Because I was foolish enough to get caught in his trap?"

"Don't say that," Gil warned. "It wasn't your fault."

"But you're still angry about it," Nick pointed out defensively. "Angry enough that you've barely acknowledged my presence since then. What am I supposed to say? That I'm sorry? Is that what you want to hear? Ok, then. I'm sorry I never measured up. I'm sorry I disappointed you again. I'm sorry I was so fucking stupid that I followed Gordon's clues and played right into his hands! Do you feel better now?"

"Stop it, Nick," he barked sharply, ignoring the pain in his head. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Do I?" Nick practically shouted. He wished, more than anything, that he could get to his feet and put some space between them, even if just with aimless pacing. As it was, he had no choice but to remain in the cramped quarters, every nerve in his body screaming for escape. "How? How would I know that?"

"You're right," Grissom finally said, shaking his head. "You wouldn't."

"Then enlighten me," Nick demanded. "If you're so angry, be a man and tell me why."

Gil was silent for a long moment while he thought about how best to answer. Finally, he took a deep breath. "When I went to drop off the money to Gordon, he asked me how I felt watching you in that box, knowing there was nothing I could do. Until then, I'd been focused on how to get you back but as he continued to taunt me, I realized I was feeling everything he wanted me to. Helplessness, uselessness. Things I wasn't used to and didn't want to feel."

"And that made you angry," Nick surmised as the other man stopped talking.

"You could have died and I would have been forced to live with those feelings for the rest of my life, just like he did."

"And what? You think that makes you like him?"

"No. But it does make me wonder to what lengths I would have gone to prevent it. I'd already risked compromising the integrity of the lab by accepting help from a known murder suspect."

"And you blame me for that."

"You, me, the department, Gordon. Amy Hendler and Nigel Crane and everyone who thinks we're an easy target for misplaced revenge or perverted justice."

"That's a lot of anger," Nick replied after a moment.

"Yeah," Gil breathed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"So, what am I supposed to do with that?"

"Nothing you can do, Nick. It's my problem; I'll deal with it."

"Bullshit."

His eyes snapped open at the uncustomary language. "Excuse me?"

"You're choosing not to deal with it. You can't just ignore it and hope it will go away. If you want to get it out of your system, be my guest. Snap at me, yell at me, Hell, hit me if it'll make you feel better."

"I don't want to hit you, Nick," he said with distaste. "That wouldn't solve anything."

Nick's eyes flashed. "Keeping it all inside isn't solving anything either. I should know. You think I don't get angry? You think I don't curse Walter Gordon every time an ant crawls on me and I flinch? Every time I wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath? Do you think I blame you or Catherine or Warrick for not finding me sooner? Or Kelly Gordon for inspiring his revenge? No, I blame him and him alone for the choices he made."

"I never said it was rational. You wanted to know why I was angry and I told you."

"Well, now I'm telling you," Nick snapped. "You need to either deal with it or let it go. If you can't do that, maybe you're the one who should be thinking about a transfer."

Gil grimaced. "Maybe you're right."

"Damn it, Grissom!" Nick exclaimed, grabbing the man's shoulder. "Don't do this. I've got enough shit to deal with without you making me responsible for this! For once in your life, stop hiding behind the Gil Grissom façade and let yourself feel. Get angry at Gordon, at me, at the whole damned world if you want to! At least then I'll know that I haven't been wasting my time all these years looking up to a man who doesn't have the balls to show the world he's human!"

Anger sparked in Gil's eyes, but instead of lashing out with harsh words, he found himself cupping Nick's face and pulling him in for a hard, heated kiss. It wasn't until his mind registered Nick pulling away that he even realized what he'd done. He immediately pulled back and regaled the man with a wide-eyed look. "God, Nick, I'm sorry..."

Nick pulled back as far as he could from the other man. "What the Hell was that?" he asked in a shaky voice.

Gil was shaking his head. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I just ... I don't know."

Nick jumped slightly at the sound of a third voice. "Gil? Nicky? You in there?"

"Yeah!" Nick called in response to Jim's voice, his eyes still trained warily on Gil.

"Everybody OK?"

"Grissom took a blow to the head, but he's conscious and lucid," he replied, though one eyebrow climbed slightly on the last word.

"We're bringing in some equipment, but it's going to take some time to dig you out."

"Copy that," Nick called. "We're not going anywhere."

He was still looking at Gil as he heard Jim begin to bark orders.

"Nick, I really am sorry. I don't have an excuse for my actions. I didn't even realize what I was doing."

Nick looked away for a moment before letting his gaze swing back to the other man, his expression carefully neutral. "I didn't know ... I mean, that you ..."

"Like guys?" Gil shrugged. "I like people, Nick. Gender doesn't really enter into it for me. I'm able to see beauty in all its forms but it's a person's qualities that attract me more than the physical shell they're encased in."

Nick frowned. "What does that mean?" he asked. "That you're bisexual? Gay? Sraight? What?"

Gil sighed. "I prefer not to affix labels to my sexuality, but if I had to choose one of the conventional terms, I guess I'd have to go with door number one. If I feel a connection to someone, it doesn't matter to me whether they're male or female."

"And you...you feel that connection now? With me?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "It was an impulse, one I acted on without considering the consequences." He paused for a moment, trying to gauge a reaction in the other man. "I promise you, it won't happen again."

Something akin to anger flashed in Nick's eyes before he silently nodded once in acknowledgement of Gil's words.

"I had no right to heap even more onto your plate," Grissom said sincerely. "Do you think we can just chalk it up to temporary insanity brought on by stressful conditions and forget it?"

"Is that what you want?" Nick asked seriously.

"What I don't want is for this to put additional strain on our working relationship."

Nick's jaw clenched slightly and he looked away. "Consider it forgotten."

It was with a combination of relief and disappointment that Gil nodded in response. While they'd touched on some of the reasons for the recent tension between them, they hadn't really resolved anything, had they? Nick had gotten angry and had let a few things out, but when he'd so obviously tried to give Gil an outlet for his own anger, he'd reacted by ... kissing him.

He'd kissed Nick Stokes.

Where the Hell had that come from?

He found himself watching Nick as they waited for rescue. He was a good looking man, there was no doubt about that, but for the first time in too long, he allowed himself to look deeper. His mind's eye delved past the easy-going charm that so many saw to the more intricate layers beneath and he marveled at what he found. Intelligence partnered with compassion, determination with sensitivity. Nick's inherent belief in the good of mankind tempered the harsh realities of their job and kept him always one step ahead of the cynicism that so easily caught up to so many in their field. Experience and a sense of humour worked hand in hand, one teaching hard lessons while the other steadfastly filed them into their proper perspective, rendering them valuable rather than destructive.

It was like Gil could actually see all the qualities that resided within the other man. Like a colony of bees, each worker carrying out his assigned task in harmony with the next. Loyalty, patience and hope balancing vulnerability, fear and anger. And through them all, a core of solid strength that, like the Queen bee, held them all together and assured their collective survival. God, how could anyone not love this man?

He tore his mind from the path it had been traveling in much the same way he'd pulled his lips from Nick's earlier, feeling uncomfortably similar to the way he had then, like he'd experienced something he was never meant to, something so personal that it almost pained him to know it hadn't been freely offered.

"What?" Nick asked with a small frown, having noted the change in his companion's expression.

Oh, nothing, Nicky. I may have just realized I've been falling in love with you for years. This isn't going to be a problem for you, is it?

Nick's hand on his arm made him jump slightly. "Grissom, talk to me, man. What's wrong?"

He shook his head quickly, wincing at the pain it invoked. "Nothing. Nothing, I...my head hurts."

It was true, but he regretted saying it as soon as he saw the concern flare in Nick's eyes. "I'm Ok," he added in way of reassurance.

Any response Nick might have made was forgotten as the small enclosure was suddenly bathed in light for a brief moment before an unfamiliar head popped through the newly made opening in the rock. "Ted Masters, Search and Rescue. Everybody OK in here?"

"We've got a head injury with temporary LOC," Nick informed him. "But that's about the worst of it."

"Ok, here's what's going to happen," Ted told them. "I'm going to send in a couple of hard hats and I want you to put them on immediately, all right? Then we're going to enlarge the opening just enough for me to fit through so that I can check things out before we go any further. Understood?"

"Yeah," Nick replied.

Ted wriggled his way into the small enclosure moments later and Nick's sigh of relief was audible. Having someone else there to take charge and competently assess Grissom's injury left him free to think about some of the things that had been said in the last few hours.

And allowed his mind to comprehend the fact that Grissom had ... kissed him.

While he'd assured Gil he could consider the incident forgotten, Nick doubted that he'd actually forget it any time in the near future ... if ever. He'd been trying to goad the other man into letting go some of the anger and fear that he'd admitted to harbouring, but there was no way in Hell he would have predicted such an outcome.

Gil had kissed him.

Gil Grissom.

Damn.

"Now, how about you."

He looked up to see Ted's face watching him. "Huh?"

Ted nodded at the man's crudely bandaged arm. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Oh, sure," Nick responded with a nod. "May need a couple of stitches."

"You said it was a scratch," Grissom said, one eyebrow raised in disapproval.

"It is," Nick replied through clenched teeth as the medic examined the injury. "A deep scratch."

"More like a gash," Ted said, rewrapping it. "I'm guessing that couple of stitches will end up being more like ten, maybe more."

"I'll take 'em if it means getting out of here," Nick replied glumly.

"Won't be long now. They just need to move some of those bigger rocks so that we can get you out without further injury."

Nick just nodded again and watched the small opening grow as they worked on it from the other side. In what seemed like hours but was probably mere minutes, they had the go-ahead to move out into the fresh, desert air.

As expected, Catherine was right there when they emerged. "Nick, are you all right?" she asked, concern etched into her features as she wound an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm fine, Catherine," he replied tightly. "Just need some space is all."

She immediately removed her arm, but stayed as close as comfortably possible. "I'm so sorry, Nick, I never would have sent you out here if I'd known."

"You think I don't know that?" Nick snapped irritably. He immediately regretted the harsh words and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not that far gone that I'd think for a second you would have knowingly sent me or anyone else into a mine collapse."

"No, you're not," she agreed with a sigh. "It was a stupid thing to say, but when I heard you guys were trapped in there, I ... I guess I lost it."

Nick smiled slightly. "Yeah, well, I can understand that."

She returned the smile and touched his uninjured arm in a reassuring gesture. "You need to have that arm looked at," she told him gently.

He glanced toward the waiting ambulance. "I know, I just..."

She knew he was probably remembering his last ambulance ride and wanted to spare him having to relive it all the way to the hospital. "I have to go, too, and there's not going to be room for all of us in the back of that ambulance with Gil. Since I came out with Brass and he's going to be here a while yet, maybe I could get a ride with you?"

He smiled, seeing right through the pretense but appreciating it nonetheless. "I suppose you'll want to drive."

"I'd rather be behind the wheel than in the passenger seat if you pass out from loss of blood, if that's what you mean," she teased.

He tossed her his keys with a laugh. "Fine. Let's go."

They'd x-rayed his arm before closing the gash with eleven stitches and he was just putting on his torn shirt as Catherine walked into the exam room.

"Mmm, don't cover that up on my account," she teased. She tossed him a clean scrub shirt. "But if you feel you must, put this on instead."

"Thanks." He quickly pulled the shirt over his head, wincing when the movement pulled on the wound.

"Hurt much?"

"Not too bad," he answered truthfully.

"Well, you've got the next shift off anyway," she informed him. "Get some rest and call me if you don't feel up to coming in after that."

"I can still do my job, Cath."

"I know that and you know that, but protocol demands 24 hours following a work-related injury requiring medical attention."

"How's Gil?"

"Slight concussion and a nasty lump, but he'll live."

Just then the object of their conversation walked into the room. "You OK, Nick?"

"Yeah, a few stitches, no big deal."

"Eleven isn't a few," Catherine pointed out.

"It is when you compare it to thirty-nine or fifty-two."

She rolled her eyes and turned to Gil. "You good to go?"

"Yeah. But apparently I'll be needing a ride."

"I can do that," Nick offered. "They just gave me a local for the stitches, so I'm OK to drive."

"That'll work," Catherine said. "Sarah's in the waiting room so I'll get a ride back to the lab with her."

"What's Sarah doing here?" Gil asked with a frown.

"Yeah, right," Nick murmured, rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised they managed to contain her to the waiting room."

"They didn't. I did," Catherine said with a mischievous smile and a wink in Nick's direction. Turning to Grissom, she added, "She's going to want to see for herself that you're alive and well, though, so we'd best get it over with and then you two can be on your way."

With a shake of his head, Nick followed them toward the waiting room.

*******

The drive to Gil's house was accomplished in complete silence and both men were relieved when Nick finally pulled into the driveway and put the vehicle in park.

"Nick, listen, I ..." The words trailed off and he shook his head slightly. "I know I should say something but I'm not sure what."

"Whatever it is, could we please not do it now?" Nick asked, a hint of pleading in his voice that made him cringe inwardly. "I just ... not now, OK?"

Grissom nodded slowly. "OK. Just promise me you won't do anything hasty until we've had a chance to talk this out."

"I'm not going anywhere, if that's what you mean," he said rather tightly.

"Ok... good." He mustered up a small smile. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem."

Reluctantly, Gil got out of the vehicle and made his way toward the front door. Nick waited until he was inside before backing onto the street and heading for his own home. Once alone and on the road, he blew out a long breath.

Gil Grissom had kissed him.

He wasn't sure why he kept coming back to that. Sure, it had come as a surprise, but in their job, they learned to expect the unexpected, to deal with surprises and move on. Grissom wanted him to pretend it never happened, so why couldn't he just do that? It had been, as Grissom had pointed out, a stressful situation. It hadn't really meant anything.

The problem was, he couldn't really make himself believe that. It had meant something to the other man, Nick was sure of it. What he wasn't sure of was exactly what it meant and how he was supposed to deal with it. So, Grissom liked guys. Big deal. But did he like Nick? Not as a friend or a colleague but as... a guy?

And why the Hell didn't that bother him as much as it should?

He pushed the uncomfortable question from his mind as he arrived home. Hopefully, a hot shower and a few hours of sleep would clear his head and allow him to come up with some answers.

***

A shower and some sleep helped, but not necessarily in the way Nick had hoped it would. Clarity of mind wasn't always a good thing, not when it revealed truths better left uncovered. He cast his mind back over the last five years, looking for any sign that Grissom had ever been even marginally interested in him. He remembered fondly the early days when 'Nicky, my boy' rolled so easily off the other man's tongue, always with an underlying note of what Nick had perceived as affection.

But then things had changed. Holly Gribbs had died and Grissom had gone from colleague to supervisor. 'Nicky' became a rarely used moniker, replaced by a shorter, curter version. ...process, Nick... what were you thinking, Nick?... you're a grown man, Nick, quit whining...

He gave his head a small shake to clear it of the detached voice. He probably wasn't being fair. It's not like he'd never heard a kind word from the man, just nothing that could be considered overly personal. Nothing to indicate that he might one day want to ... kiss him.

Which could only mean one thing. That the kiss had been just that. A kiss. A physical impulse rooted in nothing more than a need for human contact during a stressful, life threatening situation.

He thought he should feel a measure of relief at that but he couldn't manage to summon that particular emotion. What he felt was ... disappointment. A certain degree of sadness, even.

And that was something he didn't want to think about. He needed to stop thinking about all of it – the kiss, the fact that it hadn't been anything more than that, that it never would be.

That way, he wouldn't have to recognize the possibility that he might have, possibly, wanted it to be more.

He forced himself to ignore the annoying, taunting voice in his head that told him it wouldn't be that easy to push it aside. He'd make sure it was. He'd make no mention of the incident and he'd prevent Grissom from doing so as well. It would be business as usual. Supervisor and subordinate. Two men doing a job, nothing more.

Nothing more.

*******

It was with a modicum of concern that Gil watched Nick through the window of the Trace Lab. In the four days since their ordeal, he'd barely had a chance to say hello to the other man, let alone really talk to him. The case load had been heavy but he knew that wasn't the only reason. On at least two occasions, he'd tried to pin Nick down to a time when they could get together and talk but each time, the man had begged off with an excuse about a case or imaginary 'plans' that Gil was fairly certain he didn't really have. Dark circles under his eyes indicated that he wasn't sleeping as well as he should, if at all, and his demeanour was far from the easy-going one that they'd all come to expect from him. Knowing it couldn't go on, he resolved to confront him once and for all.

Which was why he found himself standing on Nick's doorstep after shift the next morning. Hesitating only slightly, he raised his hand to knock on the door. It opened a few minutes later to reveal a disheveled Nick on the other side.

"Grissom." His tone held more resignation than surprise and Gil realized that wasn't a good sign.

"May I come in?"

He swung the door wide and allowed the other man entrance before closing it again. "Care for a drink?" he asked, holding up a beer bottle in one hand.

"Uh, no, thank you."

Nick shrugged and made his way into the living room, leaving Gil to follow if he was so inclined. Once there, they both took a seat, Nick on one end of the sofa, Gil on the other.

"What are you doing here?"

The question was blunt and took Gil a bit by surprise coming from the man who was usually so polite. "I thought we should talk."

"About?"

"You," Gil replied, equally to the point. "And why you've been avoiding me."

Nick barked a harsh laugh. "What's the matter, Gris? You can dish it out but you can't take it?"

"Is that what this is about? Giving me a taste of my own medicine?"

"And what if it is?" Nick demanded angrily. "How does it feel, huh?"

"Not very good," Gil admitted quietly after a moment.

"Well maybe now you know how I felt." Nick took a long pull from his bottle and then shook his head. "No, you don't, and do you know why? Because it's not the same. You're not trying to recover from the most traumatic experience of your life and wondering why the one man whose opinion always mattered doesn't want anything to do with you. Wondering what you did that was so wrong that he couldn't even come to visit except when he thought it was necessary to maintain professional appearances."

Gil's heart broke at those words. He'd been so wrapped up in his own feelings and doing what was right for Nick that he hadn't realized how his absence had hurt the younger man in the days and weeks following the incident with Gordon. "I'm sorry."

Nick seemed to deflate with those words, closing his eyes and shaking his head for a long moment. "Not your fault," he finally said wearily.

"Yes, it is," Gil said, sliding a little closer. "I handled things badly and I am sorry."

"Handled things badly? You treated me like I was nothing! Like I wasn't worthy of your time! And just when I think I'm getting used to that, you start spouting all this crap about how angry you are and while I'm still getting my head around that you fucking kiss me!"

The burst of anger seemed to drain him and he leaned back on the sofa, his forearm covering his eyes. "I don't know what to do with that," he said hoarsely. "With any of it."

Gil studied the man for a moment. While he'd obviously been drinking, he was far from inebriated. He just looked incredibly tired. "You don't have to do anything with it," he said softly. "Not right now. When was the last time you slept, Nick?"

"Can't," Nick murmured wearily. "Ants."

Gil kicked himself mentally for not bothering to find out if the nightmares had returned following the cave-in. "If I get rid of them, do you think you could sleep?"

Nick lifted his arm and eyed the other man warily. "You could do that?"

"I'm an entomologist. Bugs are my thing."

"These ones won't go away," he said quietly.

"Mind if I take a look?"

Nick only shrugged and closed his eyes again. Taking that as permission, Gil got to his feet and made his way into the bedroom. The shades were drawn and the bed was a rumpled mess, indicating likely more than one failed attempt at sleep. He smoothed out the sheets and straightened the covers before opening the shades and bathing the room with light. Satisfied, he returned to the living room to retrieve the sleepy man, leading him slowly down the corridor to the bedroom door.

Nick tensed and stopped just shy of entering the room. "It's OK," Gil said gently. "They're gone, Nick, I promise."

"They'll come back. They always come back."

"No they won't, not this time. I'll even keep watch if you want."

Nick's eyes flitted around the room. "Ok."

With that, Gil led him to the bed and helped him into it, pulling the covers up over his shoulders.

He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. "Gris?" he murmured after a moment.

"Yes?"

"You kissed me."

"Yes," he replied softly.

"Try not to do it again, 'K? Hurts too much."

Gil couldn't deny the lump in his throat at the words. "I never meant to hurt you, Nicky."

"Nobody ever means it," Nick murmured, already on the edge of sleep. "Don't hurt no less."

"No," Gil sighed quietly, "no, I don't imagine it does." He listened as the other man's breathing evened into sleep before crossing the room to once again close the shades. Returning to the bedside, he pulled up a chair and settled in, watching Nick sleep and thinking about how to fix the mess he'd so obviously made of things.

*******

When Nick emerged from the bedroom six hours later, it was to find Gil in the kitchen making coffee.

"You didn't have to stay," he muttered as he took a seat at the table.

"As it turns out, I didn't have any place else to be," he replied, handing over a mug of the fresh brew.

Nick took it with a nod of thanks and sipped it cautiously. He stared into the dark liquid for a moment and grimaced as a memory made its way to the surface of his fatigued mind. "Please tell me I didn't ask you to rid my bedroom of ants," he said miserably.

Gil tilted his head a little. "Actually, you didn't ask. I offered."

He shook his head. "Sorry."

"Don't be; as extermination jobs go, it really didn't take long."

He looked up to see Gil offer him a teasing smile, then returned his gaze to his coffee. "Why are you here?" he asked after a long moment.

Gil pursed his lips. "Why did I come? Or why did I stay?"

Nick's eyes narrowed as he looked up once again. "Pick one."

He'd known it wasn't going to be quite that easy, but the hardness both in Nick's eyes and his tone didn't bode well. "We should talk," he said simply.

Nick shook his head. "As I recall, we didn't really accomplish much last time we tried that."

"I thought maybe we'd try again under more favourable circumstances."

He sighed. "What's left to say, Gris?"

"Quite a bit, evidently. Do you remember what you said this morning?"

"About the ants?"

Gil shook his head. "After that. You were on the verge of sleep and you asked me... not to kiss you again because it hurt too much."

Nick's jaw clenched. "If I was half asleep, I obviously didn't know what I was saying."

Grissom considered that as well as the man seated before him. "Maybe not," he conceded, "but that doesn't mean you don't know why you said it."

Nick said nothing, choosing to stare silently into his cooling coffee.

"Nick?"

"Because it's true," the younger man snapped angrily. "So can we please do what you wanted to do in the first place and forget it?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, not until I know why it hurt you. That was never my intent."

Nick was shaking his head. "No, I'm sure there's some profound life lesson in there somewhere, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not in any mood to figure it out just now."

The tone of his voice had changed from angry to sad and Gil found himself wishing back the former. "I'd never toy with your emotions that way, Nick."

"No? Tell me about the night you took Warrick on one of your precious rollercoaster rides. About how you went for a beer after that."

"That bothered you?" He was genuinely surprised by that revelation.

"Not at the time. I knew you were a very private person and you had to open up to people in your own way. Beers with Warrick, dinner at Catharine's, lunch with Greg. You sent Sarah that plant and took Teri out to dinner, then Sophia."

Gil was nodding slowly. "That's all true, but I don't see what it has to do with anything."

"You shared a part of yourself with every single one of them and I kept waiting for my turn but it never came. You wouldn't even accept an invitation for a damned cup of coffee." He snorted. "Hell, the most personal conversation we've ever had was in that mine."

Grissom was silent for a moment, raking through his memory for something to dispute that claim.

"I stopped looking for your approval as a CSI and eventually I stopped hoping for it as a person. I know who I am. I don't need you or anyone else to validate me. It hurt, knowing you weren't willing to share even a small part of yourself with me, but I accepted it and moved on." He paused for a moment. "Then you kissed me and I was able to brush it off at first, circumstances being what they were, but later, when I had time to really think about it, I saw it for what it was and it ..."

"It what?" Gil asked, both horrified and intrigued by what he was hearing.

Nick got up from the table, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter."

"It matters, Nick. It matters to me. You saw it for what it was and it... what?"

"It hurt all over again, OK?" Nick practically yelled. "In five years, the only interest you've shown in me turns out to be physical. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"What!?" Gil exclaimed. Trying to compose himself, he shook his head slightly. "No, Nicky, you've got it all wrong."

"Don't call me that!"

Gil raised his hands in front of him in an attempt to calm the other man down. "Ok, I'm sorry, but can we please sit down and talk about this? It's not what you're thinking, I swear. Please, Nick."

Nick eyed him warily. He wanted nothing more than for Gil to convince him that it wasn't true, but he no longer knew which feelings to trust.

He wasn't sure he even cared, anymore.

"Please."

The quiet desperation in Gil's voice was his undoing and he lowered himself wearily into the chair.

Taking that as a good sign, Gil sat across from him. "I'm sorry I gave you that impression, but I'd like to explain my side if you'll let me."

Nick looked away for a moment, considering the request, then slowly swung his gaze back to meet Gil's. He didn't say a word, but his posture was defensive, protecting himself from what he was about to hear and Gil was determined to break through that barrier.

"You're right," he began, "I never wanted to socialize with you outside of work, but not for the reasons you think. It wasn't because I didn't like you or want to spend time with you, it was because... because I did... I do..."

"Is this another one of your riddles?" Nick asked with irritation.

"No, Nick." He instinctively reached out to touch the other man's hand on the table, only to pull his own back when Nick flinched ever so slightly. "No riddles, no tricks." He shook his head a bit as though trying to unmuddle his thoughts. "The reason... the reason I can ask Warrick out for a drink or take Greg to lunch is because that's all it is, two guys, colleagues, sharing a beer or a meal. I knew it wouldn't be that simple with you."

"Why the Hell not?" he asked, frowning. "Aren't I one of the guys? A colleague?"

"You are, but you're also more than that... to me. And that's where the problem lies."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I feel... differently about you than I do Warrick or Greg." He paused a moment. "Part of it's attraction, part of it is probably unhealthy obsession, but ...." He held Nick's gaze with his own as he continued. "It wasn't until I kissed you that I realized it was so much more, had been for quite some time."

Nick's eyes narrowed as he looked warily at the other man. "What does that mean?"

He took a deep breath to steel himself. "I care about you, Nick... not just as a friend, but as ... more."

Nick's mouth opened to say something but nothing came out for a long moment. When it did, his voice cracked with the strain. "How can you say that to me?"

"Because it's the truth."

"You don't even know me," he grated.

"I know you're a compassionate, honest, intelligent man. I know you like paragliding and rock climbing, that you still believe people are inherently good, despite what we see every day, that friends and family are important to you but that you'd also lay down your life for a stranger if it came to that."

Nick was silent for a long moment, his expression frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief. "This can't be happening."

"I don't expect anything from you in return, Nick. I know this isn't something you ever expected to hear and honestly, it wasn't something I ever planned on telling you. I'm still one of your supervisors and I realize you're straight. I didn't think it was in either of our best interests to admit how I feel."

"Then why do it?" he demanded.

He considered that for a moment. "Because I'd rather be seen as a pathetic old fool than let you believe for one more minute that I considered you somehow unworthy of my attention or friendship. That was never the case and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"It's not like I was pining away for either," Nick snapped. "I told you, I got over my hero worship of you a long time ago. I accepted that you didn't think of me as anything more than a coworker." He paused a moment. "Maybe easier than I can accept what you're trying to tell me now."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked quietly.

Nick got up and began to pace, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "Part of me wants to forget you ever showed up in the first place."

Gil nodded in understanding, though there was disappointment and sadness in his blue eyes.

"The other part is still waiting for the punch line here."

"There is no punch line, Nick. If there was, I'd be it. A man my age interested in his much younger, decidedly straight subordinate. I'm not trying to shock you or trick you. I simply thought you deserved to know the truth. "

"Words don't always speak the truth," he pointed out, anger edging his words. "Isn't that what you're always telling us?"

A ghost of a wry smile crossed the other man's face. "Yes, yes it is." He paused for a moment before getting to his feet. "You're right. Words aren't going to solve anything, here. I should go."

He stood where he was, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. It was like nothing made sense anymore, like he was living in some sort of unbalanced, alternate universe. Maybe he was. Maybe they were still back in the mine and he was the one with the lump on his head, unconscious and dreaming things he'd never before imagined. He was still contemplating the possibility when he realized Gil was waiting for a response.

"Yeah," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "Maybe you should."

Gil nodded once and made a move toward the door. After taking only a few steps, he stopped and turned. "Will you promise me one thing, Nick?"

"If I can," Nick replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Just think about what I said?"

His gaze met Grissom's for an uncomfortable second before flitting away. "I doubt I'll have much choice," was all he'd concede in way of an answer.

He waited until he heard the front door close before letting out a long, drawn out breath.

Could things possibly get any more complicated?

*******

By the end of another week, he'd been successful in avoiding any further confrontations with Grissom, but far less so at getting the man's words out of his mind.

...just think about what I said...

With the upcoming weekend off, he was uncomfortably aware that he had two whole days stretching before him in which to do just that.

He'd already come to the conclusion that Grissom hadn't been lying to him. Not consciously, anyway. The man had risked a lot revealing his feelings the way he had without knowing how Nick would react.

If nothing else, he had to respect that.

Not that respect was really an issue. He'd respected Gil Grissom and his work even before he'd met the man and it hadn't wavered once in the years they'd worked together. If anything, it had grown.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd earned some in return.

That thought gave him somewhat of a warm feeling. It had been something he'd wanted from the beginning and finally having it was made all the sweeter knowing it had been hard earned. Gil Grissom wasn't necessarily hard to please, but he was to impress and Nick had managed it on more than one occasion. Not that he'd ever come right out and said it, but Nick could always tell. A certain expression. A small smile. They came easily to the surface of his mind and he was surprised to learn he'd remembered each and every one, had squirreled it away like some fleeting treasure.

Not wanting to think too hard on that, he turned his mind to other aspects of the puzzle that was Gil Grissom. Nick knew the man wasn't perfect, but he was hard pressed to come up with even one imperfection that was worthy of consideration. What others saw as an inability to deal with people, Nick saw as a desire to keep emotions from clouding his judgment. It wasn't that he didn't have them, just that he'd schooled himself not to give them free rein. It was a feat that, no doubt, came easier to some than others, but Nick suspected that it was never accomplished without paying a hefty price in regards to personal relationships.

Of course, that only meant that there were scores of emotions waiting just below the surface and Nick couldn't help imagining what it might be like to have them unleashed in his direction. To have those intent blue eyes focused solely on him, those talented hands making contact with his heated flesh, those lips claiming his in a fierce, passionate kiss displaying the wild abandon so many thought him incapable of.

He snapped himself out of the dangerous thoughts and got to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa in an attempt to calm the erection pressing against his zipper. There was no way he could sanely be thinking that way – not about Gil Grissom. The man was his boss, his mentor, his colleague.

The man who'd so recently expressed an interest in him as more than just a friend.

Part of him wanted to believe it and he recognized that as the coward in him. It had hurt when Gil had started avoiding him, especially after what had happened with Gordon. It still did, he realized, even after Gil's subsequent explanation for his actions. He was just tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of trying to hide from it. Tired of rationalizing it away. If Gil's words could alleviate some of that, maybe he should just let them. Hide behind them like the coward he'd never thought himself to be. Even if he knew they weren't true.

But did he really want to risk losing what was left of himself by hiding behind a misconception, however well intentioned?



Thoroughly distracted by the thoughts running rampant through his head, he actually jumped a little when the phone rang.

"Hello." The empty, desolate sound of his own voice seemed foreign to him.

"Nick?"

Swallowing once, he tried for a more normal tone. "Grissom. What's up?"

There was a small pause. "Are you OK? You sound a little strange."

"Yeah, fine. I'm fine. I was just ... uh...watching TV. Discovery channel. Some documentary on migratory birds." He rolled his eyes as he silently told himself to stop babbling.

"Sounds fascinating," Gil replied politely.

"You have no idea," Nick murmured. "So, what's up? You need me on a case?"

"No," Grissom assured him. "Nothing like that. I just thought... maybe we could get together and talk. I don't know about you, but I don't want to go another week with things the way they have been. We need to clear the air. Find a common ground we can both live with."

Nick glanced at the clock on the DVD player. Four hours until Gil had to be at work. "Yeah, we should probably talk," he admitted with resignation. "You... uh... want to come over?"

*******

Half an hour later, he was once again letting Gil into his townhouse, offering him something to drink, pouring coffee into mugs. Normal, everyday actions made anything but routine by the obvious tension between them.

Once seated on the sofa in the living room, Nick across from him in a matching chair, Gil cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, not sure where, exactly, to begin."

Nick seemed to consider that for a moment. "Let's start with what you said last time you were here," he finally said quietly.

Gil nodded once. "I meant it, Nick. Every word."

"How long?"

"Almost from the start," Gil said with a sad smile. "All my life I've closed myself off, built up walls and barriers that I thought were impenetrable." He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "Then you came along and walked right through like they weren't even there."

"That's because I never really saw them," Nick replied quietly. "You were Gil Grissom, man. There was no way I wasn't going to learn everything I could from you. Can't do that from a distance."

"You learned so much more than I could ever teach you," Gil said proudly. "You're a damned good CSI, Nick."

"You've never told me that before."

"Part of being a good CSI is knowing how to interpret the evidence," he replied with a small smile. "You already knew."

"Yeah, I did. It's still nice to hear, though."

"But is it enough to make you want to stay?"

Nick huffed a short laugh. "I wasn't planning on transferring, Gil, not seriously. I told you I'd thought about it from time to time and I have but never to the point where I'd been prepared to put it in motion. And if you want the truth, it was never entirely because of you. I sometimes think about what it would be like to hold a different place on the team, but I'm happy where I am for the most part. Would I rather not be the guy who got stalked or ended up in that box? Hell, yes, but at the same time I know how hard you guys worked to find me in time. If my fate had been in the hands of any other team, the outcome might have been different. I'm proud to work with the people I do here and I'd be a fool to give that up for a little anonymity."

"That's nice to hear, too."

Nick was silent for a moment. "Does that change anything?"

Frowning, he tilted his head slightly to one side. "Change anything how?"

Brown eyes met blue and held them there for a long moment, searching for ... something. "How much of what you said was because you were afraid of losing me to another team? Another lab?"

Surprise registered in the older man's face, quickly followed by a look of angry disbelief. "Do you really think I would say something like that just to keep you on my team?"

"I don't know what to think," he stated truthfully. "You say you ... you tell me how you feel, how you think you feel, but as hard as I try to make the evidence fit that theory, it just doesn't."

"You don't believe I'm being honest with you."

"Or with yourself," Nick replied. He looked away for a moment before returning a sad gaze to meet with the one across from him. "When you came to in that mine and realized what had happened, what could have happened, you were relieved, grateful, even, that you were alive. That we both were." He smiled sadly at Grissom's puzzled look. "I've been there, man." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "When I saw your face looking down at me in that box, I felt... God, it was like you were the only person on earth. The most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. Then the lid opened and I grabbed your hand and I never wanted to let go. In that moment, that instant, I felt this incredible sense of ..." He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. "Point is, it wasn't real. The dust settled, the bites healed and things went back to normal."

"Maybe they didn't," Gil said quietly.

"Gil, I ..."

"Let me finish." He paused a moment until he was sure he had the other man's attention. "I know exactly what you felt when you grabbed my hand because I felt it, too. Do you think it was easy having to leave you in there, even for another minute, after we found out about the explosives?

"No," Nick admitted compassionately, "I don't. But it wouldn't have been any easier for you to leave Catherine in there, or Warrick or Sarah. That's just who you are, Grissom. It doesn't mean you feel anything more for me than you do them."

Gil's lips thinned slightly as his jaw clenched. "I'm not some kid who doesn't know what he's feeling."

"No, but that doesn't mean you can't believe you're feeling something you're not. Not really." He shook his head with a sigh. "Look, I appreciate everything you've said, Grissom, I do. I just can't believe it. I can't let myself believe it." He paused a moment, looking into the blue eyes. "Please tell me you understand that."

"I can't do that, Nick, because I don't understand. These are my feelings; they have no reflection on you, not in any way that's going to hurt you or the way people relate to you. I know you're straight and I didn't tell you expecting that to change, I just ..."

"I've been attracted to guys for as long as I can remember," Nick said, cutting him off.

A deep silence fell over the room as Gil gaped at him.

"What?" Nick finally asked with a wry smirk. "Was I supposed to wear a sign or something?"

"No, of course not," Gil said, flustered. "I just ... I didn't know."

"If you'd put half as much effort into getting to know me as you did into avoiding me, you might have."

His mind was still reeling from Nick's revelation and how it might explain the other man's reaction to Gil's own, the way he seemed reluctant, almost afraid, to take his words at face value. Knowing that Nick liked guys didn't change the way Gil felt, of course, but it was bound to influence the way Nick felt about it and Gil knew, instinctively, that his next words could make the difference between convincing Nick that he was sincere and sending the man running for cover.

"I'm not avoiding you now and I'd like to hear about it... if you want to tell me."

Nick glared at him a moment before seeming to deflate and shaking his head. "Hell, there's nothing to tell, really. I always knew I was more attracted to guys than I should have been, but I never really acted on it."

"There are no rules for how we should or shouldn't feel when it comes to attraction between adults," Gil said quietly with a small shrug. "There's just the way we feel."

"I dated my share of girls in high school and college," Nick continued. "Seemed like the thing to do and it's not like I didn't like them ... I did... I do ... it just never seemed like what I really wanted, you know? Like I was just putting in time waiting for ... something else."

Gil nodded in understanding. "Not knowing if you'll ever find it or whether or not it even truly exists."

"Yeah," Nick said, nodding slowly, surprise evident in his eyes.

Grissom allowed a small, enigmatic smile. "I used to feel the same way," he said quietly.

Nick shrugged. "Maybe that's why I never let it get serious. I never really felt a connection."

"Until Kristy Hopkins?" Gil regretted the bitter tinge to his voice the moment the words left his mouth and he hoped Nick hadn't picked up on it. Those hopes proved short-lived, however, when the younger man's expression hardened somewhat.

"You didn't know her."

He had to bite his tongue to keep from pointing out that Nick hadn't really known her either. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Nick was silent for a moment. "I know what you're thinking, but she didn't lie to me any more than I did her. We were both pretending to be something we weren't." He shrugged slightly. "Maybe that was part of the attraction."

Gil gave that the consideration it deserved. "Sometimes it's easier to play a role than to show the world who we really are"

Nick scoffed a bitter laugh. "If this is supposed to be easy, then I'm definitely doing something wrong."

"Or maybe you're finding it difficult because you're doing it right."

He pondered the cryptic words for a moment. "I was never one for rocking the boat. My parents expected me to bring home A's on my report card and girls on my arm and that's what I did. Exploring the casual attraction I felt for other guys wasn't worth risking their disapproval and I chose to just go with the flow until I found someone who meant enough to me to take that risk." He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. "I always thought it would hit like a freight train, you know? That I'd meet someone and wham! – I'd just know it was right." He paused for a moment, staring into the mug of cooling coffee he held in his hands. "Never occurred to me that it could just sneak up on me instead."

Gil had to force himself to breathe. "Is that what happened, Nick?" he asked quietly. "Is that why you're so afraid to believe that my feelings are real?"

Nick looked away and Gil cursed inwardly as his cell phone rang. Annoyed, he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. "The sheriff," he said, meeting Nick's eyes in an apologetic look before answering. "Grissom." He listened for a moment before glancing at his watch. "I can be there in twenty." His eyes met Nick's again as the sheriff continued to speak on the other end. "Don't bother. It sounds like she'll have her hands full as it is. Nick's off tonight. I'll see if he can lend a hand in the Dawson case."

He pocketed the phone a few seconds later.

"What's the Dawson case?" Nick asked.

"Dan Dawson is an automotive bigwig and a close, personal friend of the sheriff. His seventeen year old son, Patrick, failed to return home following an after-school track practice."

"Any reason to suspect foul play?"

"A school janitor found blood in the locker room. I'm heading over there to investigate it as a possible crime scene. I realize this is your weekend off, but Ecklie's already got three cases waiting to be assigned to graveyard and I could use the help."

"Not like I had any real plans," Nick assured him, already heading toward the hall. "Let me just get changed and I'll be ready to go."

Grissom blew out a long breath as he waited. He couldn't help thinking that Nick had been about to reveal something important when they'd been interrupted. He'd already surprised Gil with the revelation that he was attracted to men. Was it even remotely possible that he had feelings similar to the ones Gil, himself, was harbouring?

"You ready?" Nick asked, returning from the bedroom.

Grissom cleared both his throat and his mind. They needed to focus on the case at the moment. Everything else would have to wait. "Yeah."

***

True to his word, Gil was parking in the high school lot less than twenty minutes later. They exited the vehicle and approached the door where Brass was waiting for them.

"The sheriff's at the house with the parents," Jim informed them. "He's going to get a sample of Patrick's DNA to compare to the blood the janitor found in the locker room."

"How much blood are we talking?" Nick asked. "Enough to indicate he was seriously injured here or just knocked out and grabbed?"

Jim gestured with his head in the direction of the locker room and started walking, the others keeping pace.

"Patrick was on the track team," he said as they entered the locker room. "According to the coach, he'd stayed after practice to run a few extra laps." He nodded toward the bottle of body wash on the floor next to a small amount of blood. "Looks like he was grabbed on his way to the showers. Street clothes are still in his locker."

Gil was examining the area, taking in the small, irregular blood spot on the floor and the open locker door. "Did the janitor touch anything?"

"He says he didn't," Jim replied. "He thought it was unusual that anyone had left their locker door open and when he went to close it, he saw the blood and called it in."

Nick began taking pictures while Gil collected a sample of the blood and Jim answered his ringing phone. Less than a minute later, he hung up, his expression grim. "The Dawsons just received a ransom demand by phone. Ten million in cash if they want to see their son alive."

Gil frowned. "Anything else? A drop site?"

Jim shook his head. "Only that they had until noon tomorrow to get the money together. Said they'd call back then with further instructions."

Gil looked around the room. "Then this may be all the evidence we have until then. If Patrick was grabbed here, we may be able to find a clue as to where they've taken him."

"It's not going to be easy narrowing down the prints," Nick mused looking around the room. "A hundred kids a day must go through here."

"Luckily, we're only looking for the prints that don't belong."

Gil had begun dusting the locker when he realized Nick hadn't moved. "Nick?"

He turned at the sound of his name. "Hmm? Oh, sorry. I just ..." His gaze traveled around the room again, this time accompanied by a small frown. "Something just doesn't seem right, here."

"How so?" Grissom asked, cocking his head to one side.

"You ever run laps in high school?"

One eyebrow rose and Gil shot him a look. "I was more interested in the biology lab than the locker room, I'm afraid."

"I played football. Coach always made us run laps at the end of practice," he said thoughtfully as he made his way toward the door. "Patrick would have had to come in here, yeah?"

"It's the only entrance to the room from the field."

Nick eyed the stack of small towels on a shelf just inside the door. "Day like today, he's sweating bullets. Grabs a towel as he comes in, heads to his locker." He slowly walked toward the locker. "Water bottle's unopened."

"Doesn't mean he didn't have a spare," Gil pointed out.

Nick pulled on his gloves and reached into the locker, pulling out a small, leather case. "MP3 player," he said, opening it. "Empty."

"He likely had it with him," Grissom said. "Didn't have time to put it back in the case."

"Maybe," Nick concurred. "But you'd think he'd do that before he got out the soap."

Gil was looking thoughtfully at the other man. "Walk me through it, Nick. You're Patrick."

Nick nodded. "Ok, I come in, grab a towel by the door to wipe the sweat off my face." He glanced down at the bench. "Drop the towel here, open the locker, down the water to rehydrate. Empty bottle goes on the bench next to the towel or I throw it back into the locker or my gym bag. I take off my Ipod or whatever and I put it back in the case. Get the towel out of my bag, take off my clothes, throw them in the bag, wrap the towel around my waist, grab the soap, shampoo, whatever and head for the shower."

Gil opened the gym bag at the bottom of Patrick's locker. "A neatly folded towel but no running clothes. His street clothes are hanging on hooks inside the locker." He thought about it for a second. "Maybe he liked to undress in the shower room."

Nick shrugged. "Maybe. Floors in there get awfully wet, though."

"Doesn't matter, the gym clothes are dirty anyway and there are towels supplied for the shower, correct?"

Nick nodded and walked toward the shower room, indicating a stack of larger towels just outside the door. "You grab one on your way in, or out, depending on how modest you are and who's around."

"So, even though there was no one else around, it's possible that Patrick chose to undress in the shower room rather than the more public locker room."

"It's possible," Nick agreed. "The place wasn't actually deserted. He knew the janitor was still around somewhere."

Gil walked back to stand in front of the locker, eyeing it speculatively. "No gym towel, no MP3 player, no empty water bottle."

"And no running shoes," Nick added, joining him. "Even if Patrick was self-conscious about taking his clothes off out here, he'd never wear his trainers into the shower room. Those things take forever to dry out once they get wet."

"So why would he have the body wash already in his hand before he did any of those other things?"

"I don't think he would," Nick replied. "Doesn't look, to me, like Patrick even made it back here after his run."

Grissom turned his attention to the bottle on the floor. "Maybe he didn't," he mused. "Dust the body wash for prints."

Nick did as instructed and looked up a few minutes later. "Nothing. It's been wiped clean."

Grissom nodded thoughtfully, turning his attention to the blood. "Why wipe prints off the bottle but leave the blood?"

"Somebody wanted us to know it was Patrick's. Gives validity to the ransom call. They probably wanted us to think he was grabbed here. Have us spend hours sorting through hundreds of prints."

"In an attempt to divert us from the actual crime scene," Grissom concluded.

"And you don't think this is it," Jim surmised.

"Let's just say we have reason to doubt it," Gil replied. "We'll need enough men to search the track area. If Patrick wasn't taken here, he could have been grabbed while he was out running. Is the coach still here?"

"In his office," Brass replied, getting out his phone.

"I want to talk to him. See if he knows exactly where Patrick would have been running. Nick, I need you to continue in here. Even if it was just to set up a fake crime scene, the suspect was obviously in this room."

"Got it."

Gil turned to Jim. "Let's go talk to the coach, shall we?"

*******

"The track runs around the perimeter of the practice field," the coach said, pointing out across the field. "Patrick planned on doing another five laps after practice." He turned to face Grissom with a small frown. "You think something happened to him out there?"

"What's that?" Gil asked, evading the question and pointing toward what looked like a construction area near the end of the field.

"They're adding an additional section of bleachers," the coach informed him. "You can't really tell from here, but it's far enough back from the track that the runners aren't close enough to be in any danger. I've told them, in no uncertain terms, that the area is off limits, especially now."

"Why especially now?" Brass asked.

"They're pouring the concrete foundation in the morning. They've already leveled the site and they don't want it disturbed. "

"Thank you, Coach Peterson. You've been a great help," Grissom said with a small smile.

He nodded. "Anything I can do to help you find Patrick."

Nick joined them, then, his expression grim.

"We'll be in touch if we have any further questions," Brass said to the coach, effectively dismissing him.

Coach Peterson hesitated only slightly before nodding and leaving to return to his office.

"What is it, Nick?"

"Didn't find anything of interest in the locker room, but there's a rack of baseball bats in the equipment room. One of them looked suspiciously clean compared to the others so I sprayed it with Luminol. Positive for the presence of blood."

"Any prints?"

He nodded. "I lifted a partial from the bat and another two prints from the rack. When I compared the end of the bat to the spot on the floor, it looks like the suspect might have leaned it up against the locker while he staged the scene with the soap. I sent the bat, the prints and the blood sample back to the lab with one of Brass' guys."

"If the bat already had blood on it when it was leaned up against the locker, it's possible that the crime was committed elsewhere," Gil mused thoughtfully.

"I sprayed the lockers in the general vicinity. Nothing. If anybody'd been hit with the bat in that room, there should be some spatter or something."

"Which means he probably wasn't hit in there."

Nick followed Grissom's gaze out over the darkening field. "You think he's out there?" he asked quietly.

Gil sighed. "Only one way to find out."

They'd just reached the track, intent on following the path Patrick had taken, when Jim got a call on his cell. "Ok," he said into the phone. "I'm on my way."

He looked up at Gil and Nick. "A very distraught young lady showed up at Dawson's house wanting to talk to Patrick. When Vega tried to question her about his whereabouts, she started freaking out. They took her down to the station and they're waiting on her parents before they question her."

"Let me know if you find out anything that could help," Gil said. "We're going to continue out here."

They searched the track area in near silence, speaking only when something of interest caught their eye.

"I think I have blood," Nick said as they neared the top of the track. He was kneeling on the pavement, getting the tools from his vest to swab the stain when Gil peered over his shoulder.

"More than we found in the locker room."

Nick nodded, gesturing with his flashlight toward the grass on the inside of the track. "And spatter."

"This is the actual crime scene," Gil mused, playing his own beam of light over the surrounding area. They were only a couple of yards from the area of the construction site. "The suspect could have used the machinery for cover," he thought aloud.

Nick finished taking the swab and sample and got to his feet, sweeping the area with light. "If they took him for ransom, they'd need a vehicle."

"They'd be easily spotted driving around the track or even across the field," Gil said, scanning the area. As his gaze completed the circuit and ended up once again at the construction site, he added, "unless they went through there."

They crossed the track toward the area and squatted down to examine the dirt for tracks of any sort. "Shoe prints," Nick said, snapping a few pictures. "Mostly work boots by the looks of things." Something caught his eye and he moved a few feet to the left. "But these ones were definitely made by athletic shoes. I thought Coach Peterson said the kids were told to stay out of here."

"Evidently, teenagers don't always do what they're told," Grissom said, still searching for any signs of a vehicle that didn't belong.

Nick took a few more pictures. "Looks like one set of tracks leading in toward the digger and then back out again," he said, standing and nodding toward a small bulldozer. He looked at Gil. "Set leading in's deeper. Whoever left these tracks was carrying something."

Grissom's mouth was set in a grim line as he began following the prints. He stopped when they did, staring at an area of dirt just slightly more disturbed than the area around it. "I don't think they needed a vehicle," he said quietly. "They never planned on taking Patrick from this spot."

Being careful not to disturb anything more than they had to, they began digging through the dirt with the help of some of the cadets Brass had summoned as reinforcements.

"Stop!" Grissom instructed as he encountered something. The cadets backed away and Gil carefully brushed away some of the dirt until the face of a young man was staring back at him, eyes open but unseeing.

"Damn," Nick grated angrily.

"Call Brass; tell him to send the coroner out."

Nick did as instructed as Gil took a few pictures and then proceeded to brush away more of the dirt from their victim. When he'd finished with the call, Nick wordlessly joined in.

"You don't have to do this," Gil assured him.

"Yeah, I do," Nick replied tightly.

Gil watched him intently for a moment before resuming the task. By the time Brass and David arrived, they'd unearthed most of the body.

"I hate it when they end like this," Jim said flatly.

"We all do," Gil replied, standing back to allow David access to the body. Nick, without a word to any of them, began the walk back across the field toward the school.

"He OK?" Brass asked with a concerned frown.

Gil was watching the other man leave. "I don't know." After a moment, he turned to Jim. "You find out anything from the girl?"

"Amanda Jeffries. Apparently she'd had a little thing going with Coach Peterson. Patrick caught them together in his office after practice. Amanda tried to talk to him but he said he needed time to think. Hence the extra laps."

"Trying to decide whether or not to tell anyone what he'd seen," Gil surmised.

Jim nodded. "Peterson knew he'd be looking at more than just losing his job. Amanda's only fourteen."

"So it was in Peterson's best interest to make sure Patrick didn't talk."

Jim was watching as the boy's body was loaded onto a stretcher. "And it doesn't look like he will."

"Not with his voice, no."

When Gil arrived back at his vehicle, it was to find Nick waiting for him in the passenger seat. Neither man said anything as got behind the wheel and started the engine.

Driving back to the lab, Gil relayed the information Brass had given him concerning Amanda Jeffries.

"He killed him to keep him quiet," Nick concluded.

"It's one possibility," Gil replied. "He had motive and opportunity. We still have to rely on the evidence to directly link him to Patrick's death."

"You think the ransom demand was a diversion?"

"Most likely. If we thought Patrick had been grabbed in the locker room and taken to another location to be held for ransom, we'd be less likely to spend time searching the area around the track."

"They might have built the bleachers right on top of him and we never would have known."

"But we do know," Gil pointed out quietly. "And what we don't know yet, the evidence will tell us."

*******

At Grissom's request, Brass agreed to hold off on questioning Peterson until after Doctor Robbins had completed the preliminary examination of Patrick Dawson's body. They'd already matched the prints on the bat and the rack to the coach, but knew that it would hardly be enough to convict since he had regular access to the equipment.

"What can you tell us, Doc?" Grissom asked as he and Nick entered the room to join the coroner.

"COD appears to be blunt force trauma to the head," he replied, gesturing toward the x-rays displayed before turning back to the body. "One blow to the back of the skull, but it was a hard one. Drove pieces of bone directly into the brain."

"Could it have been made by an aluminum baseball bat?" Nick asked.

"Judging by the size and shape of the wound, I'd say most definitely." He pointed toward the wound. "It left an elongated depression in the skull."

"So, we know how and where and possibly even why," Gil mused. "Now we just need to prove who."

"If we can match Coach Peterson's shoes to the prints at the burial site, that should be enough to answer that question," Nick said grimly.

"Then let's do that, shall we?"

*******

Two hours later, they were sitting in an interrogation room across from Coach Peterson.

"So," Brass began. "Why don't you tell us again about the last time you saw Patrick Dawson."

The coach heaved a put upon sigh. "I already told you. It was after track practice, I was in my office and Patrick came in to say he would be staying to do a few extra laps."

"Were you out on the track during practice?" Grissom asked.

"Of course."

"Why didn't Patrick tell you then that he was staying? Why would he make the trip back into the school, only to have to turn around and go back out again?"

"I don't know."

"Was anyone with you in your office when Patrick came in?" Nick asked.

"I always have students coming in and out but I don't recall anyone else being there when Patrick came in, no."

"So, you don't recall Amanda Jeffries being in your office?" Brass pressed.

He frowned. "Amanda Jeffries? No, of course not. She's not even on the track team."

"No, but that doesn't mean she can't be your own personal cheerleader, does it?" Jim asked with a dangerous smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the coach replied in a huff.

"We have reason to believe that Patrick Dawson discovered you and Miss Jeffries in a compromising situation," Grissom explained, carefully watching the man.

"Who told you that?" he demanded. "Amanda?"

"Why don't you tell us," Nick countered.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I probably should have brought this up before, but I didn't want to get her into any trouble. Amanda Jeffries tried to seduce me a couple of weeks ago. When I spurned her advances, she got angry. Maybe this is her way of getting revenge for the rejection."

"In that case, you won't mind giving us a sample of your DNA," Nick said.

"DNA? What for?"

"To test against seminal fluid we recovered from Amanda's clothing," Grissom answered.

"Where did you get Amanda's clothing?" he asked, frowning. "Has something happened to her, too?"

"Just a sudden attack of conscience," Brass replied. "When she found out that Patrick was missing, she voluntarily regaled us with her account of what happened in your office."

"She's lying."

"Then your DNA will prove that," Nick said.

He looked at the three men around the table for a moment. "Look, I don't know what she told you, but nothing happened that wasn't consensual."

"There is no such thing as consensual sex with a minor in the State of Nevada," Gil pointed out dryly.

He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't want to say anything more until my lawyer gets here."

"He's here," a tall, dark haired man said, entering the room. He took a seat beside Coach Peterson and eyed the detective and the two criminalists.

"Your client just admitted to having sex with a minor," Brass informed him.

"I did no such thing," the coach argued.

"Good," his attorney replied. "Don't say another word." He turned to face Brass. "It's my understanding that you brought my client in merely for questioning."

"Yeah, well, we were having so much fun with that that we decided to take it up a notch," Brass replied, his eyes focused on the suspect. "Eric Peterson, you're hereby under arrest for the murder of Patrick Dawson."

"Based on what?" the lawyer demanded.

Grissom slid a photo across the table, directing his words at the suspect rather than the lawyer. "Based on the evidence. Your shoe print matches those found at the site where we found Patrick's body. Your fingerprints and Patrick's blood were both found on an aluminum baseball bat in the school's equipment room."

"That's ridiculous. He's a coach; of course his prints are going to be on the equipment and his shoe prints will be all over the school grounds. What possible motive could he have for wanting to kill one of the members of his team?"

"We think he wanted to keep Patrick from telling anyone what he saw," Nick answered.

"We have a fourteen year old witness who claims that she was having a sexual relationship with your client," Brass elaborated. "Patrick walked in on them. Now he's dead."

"And we have a warrant for a sample of your client's DNA," Grissom added, readying a swab. "Once we match it to the evidence provided by Ms. Jeffries, it will prove he had motive."

The lawyer watched Gil swab the inside of Peterson's cheek before turning to address Brass. "I'd like a moment to speak to my client alone."

"By all means," Brass said with a hard smile. The three men got up and left the room.

"What do you think?" Nick asked once they were alone in the corridor.

Brass shrugged a little. "Once we match his DNA to Amanda Jeffries' clothing, we've got him, whether he cops to the murder or not."

When they were called back into the room a few minutes later, it was to find a grim faced attorney and a glassy eyed suspect.

"It was an accident," Peterson said in a voice hoarse with emotion. "I never meant to hurt him; I only wanted to talk."

"So, naturally you went to talk to him with a baseball bat in your hand," Brass intoned.

"It wasn't like that," Peterson argued. "I was clearing equipment from the field, trying to think of what I could say to keep him from talking. I didn't even realize I was holding the bat until ..."

"Until you used it?" Gil prompted.

"He wouldn't listen," he grated angrily. "He's a kid, for Christ's sake. What right did he have to judge me?"

"Eric," the lawyer said, his tone warning.

Peterson took a deep breath and blew it out. "I just wanted to talk to him," he reiterated, "to convince him that Amanda and I weren't hurting anyone, but he wouldn't hear it. He said he was going to tell the principal and he called me a pervert. That's when I ..."

"You what?" Brass prompted, knowing Peterson was the one who had to say it.

"I hit him," he finally said quietly. "Just once. Just to shut him up for a minute." He raised his eyes to look pleadingly at the men across the table. "I didn't mean to hurt him; I just wanted him to stop making it sound like what Amanda and I had was something dirty. He's just a kid. He doesn't understand."

"Amanda's just a kid, too," Nick pointed out.

"And between the two of you out on that track, it sounds like Patrick was the only one who did understand," Grissom added.

Peterson heaved a sigh of defeat and hung his head.

"Get him out of here," Brass instructed the officer standing in the corner of the room by the door.

"So many times we see kids end up in the morgue for making wrong choices," Brass said quietly as they watched the lawyer follow his client from the room. "But it's always harder to take when they end up there for making the right ones."

***

Back at the lab, Gil dropped off the DNA swab and made sure the rest of the evidence was ready to be handed over to the D.A. before allowing his mind to return to more personal matters. Knowing Nick didn't have his vehicle at the lab, he figured that was as good a place to start as any.

"I'll give you a ride home," he said as casually as he could. "We could even stop for breakfast if you want."

"I'll take the ride, but I'm not real hungry just now. All I want to do for the next few hours is sleep." He hadn't meant the words to sound unkind, but he really wasn't up to more talking at the moment. He was relieved when a small, understanding smile touched the other man's lips.

"Home it is," Gil replied with a nod.

The two men made their way to the parking lot in silence. It wasn't until they were halfway to Nick's house that Grissom spoke again. "I'd like to continue the talk we were having when the sheriff called."

Nick nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know. I just don't feel up to it right now."

"Perhaps after we've both had a chance to rest, you'll agree to join me for dinner."

Nick's head spun rather quickly to face him. "Dinner?"

"Just the two of us," Gil said, his voice giving away a measure of nervousness. "Somewhere nice, maybe. You still have tonight off and as it happens, I'm not scheduled to work either."

"You're not?"

Gil cast him a small smile. "I do get the occasional day off, too, you know."

"I know you get them, I just didn't know you actually took them."

"Well, I'm taking this one and I'd like to spend a portion of it having dinner with you."

Nick just stared at him for a moment. "Is this like a Catherine or Warrick dinner?"

Gil pursed his lips as he considered his answer. "That's not exactly what I had in mind, no."

"Oh."

"If you'd rather not, I understand."

"Uh... yeah... sure... OK. Dinner sounds... nice."

"I know someone who owns a small restaurant on the West side," Gil continued. "You like Italian?"

Nick nodded, still trying to get his mind around the fact that he was making dinner plans with Gil Grissom. "Yeah."

"Good," Gil replied with a small nod. "Not too dressy. Jacket, maybe, but no tie. I'll pick you up around 8:30 if that's all right."

Nick instinctively glanced at his watch. In a little less than twelve hours, he'd be going out to dinner with Gil. How the Hell was he supposed to sleep now?

"Nick?"

"Uh, yeah, fine. 8:30's fine."

Gil pulled up to his house then, putting the vehicle in park and turning with a warm smile. "Good. I guess I'll see you later, then."

Nick nodded as one hand scrambled to find the door handle. "Yeah, later."

"Oh, and Nick?"

He turned, swallowing nervously. "Yeah?"

"Great job on the Dawson case."

"Uh... yeah... thanks."

Desperately wanting to put some distance between them before he could sound like any more of an inarticulate moron, he hurried from the vehicle and toward the relative safety of his front door.

*******

Nick stood in front of the full length mirror in his room, eyeing himself critically. He'd already changed three times and was getting annoyed at himself. "It's only dinner, for crying out loud," he mumbled to his reflection.

It's a date, it seemed to answer back.

He sighed. As hard as he'd tried to steer away from that particular word, there was no denying that it was a fitting label for the night ahead. It was a date. A date with Gil Grissom, his boss, the man he'd had a secret crush on for the last five years. So secret even he hadn't realized it until he'd been forced to look at his own feelings. And he did have feelings for Gil, he couldn't deny that. He just wasn't sure he was ready to risk their working relationship and possible friendship by exploring them.

But at the same time, he didn't think he could ignore them, either, not knowing that Gil shared them.

The realization had him assessing his appearance more closely. Dark brown pants and boots paired with a crisp, white shirt along with a lighter brown, suede jacket. As he was mentally running through his options, the doorbell rang. "Guess it'll have to do," he sighed, taking one last look before turning to leave the room.

He hesitated only briefly before opening the door to reveal a smartly dressed Grissom. Black jacket and pants with a blood red shirt. "Hey," he said with a nervous smile as he stood aside to allow the man entrance.

"Hello," Gil returned the greeting as he stepped into the small entryway. "Nick, you look amazing."

"I do?"

"Like you just stepped out of a magazine," he replied with obvious approval.

"Is it too much?" Nick asked self-consciously. "I can change."

"No," Gil said a little too quickly. "No, it's perfect. You look ..."

"Amazing?" Nick teased nervously.

Gil smiled and ducked his head briefly. "Yeah."

"Thanks. So do you. Red is definitely your colour."

"Thank you. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, just let me grab my wallet."

*******

The restaurant was a small, tasteful establishment tucked away in the middle of an upscale shopping district far from the bright lights of The Strip.

"This is nice," Nick said once they'd been seated at a table for two.

"I'm glad you like it. Catherine and I interviewed a witness here a couple of years ago. I've liked it ever since."

"You come here a lot, then?"

"Only when I have someone special to impress," Gil teased.

"Mr. Grissom, it's good to see you again."

They looked up to see a handsome man dressed impeccably in a black designer suit smiling at them.

Gil got to his feet and shook the man's hand with a smile. "You too, Alberto. Nick, I'd like you to meet Alberto Fiovanni, owner of this fine establishment. Alberto, Nick Stokes."

Nick got to his feet and shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you," he said with his usual charm.

"The pleasure is mine," Alberto assured him. "Please, sit."

The two men reclaimed their seats.

"When I saw your name on the reservation list, I instructed Antonio to let me know the minute you arrived."

"It was very kind of you to stop by and say hello," Gil replied politely.

"I had to see it with my own eyes," Alberto teased. Turning to Nick, he explained, "Two years ago, your Mr. Grissom does a great service to my family. In return, I tell him he's always welcome at La Lanterna D'argento and yet he never comes, never lets me to return the debt my family owes."

"You don't owe me anything. I was just doing my job."

"Because of you, my sister is a free woman, raising her family instead of rotting in a prison cell. That is a debt of great importance to the Fiovanni family."

"I'm glad it all worked out for your sister," Gil said sincerely. "She's doing well, I hope."

"Yes, thank you. And now, I will let you gentlemen return to your dinner, on the house, of course."

"That's not necessary," Gil said, a hint of alarm in his expression.

Alberto smiled and glanced unobtrusively from Gil to Nick and back again. "As you wish. Allow me, however, to provide a bottle of our best wine as a token of my appreciation."

"Thank you," Gil replied with a relieved smile. "That's very kind of you."

"The Frizolli case," Nick said once they were alone. "The woman was suspected of killing her boss."

"That's right. Evidence pointed to an inter-office affair."

"Some pretty strong evidence, too, from what I remember."

Gil nodded. "It was sheer luck that we found the only piece of evidence leading to the wife. She'd been meticulous in her attempt to frame Mrs. Frizolli."

"Maybe a little luck," Nick said with a smile. "Mostly just an even more meticulous criminalist, I suspect."

It was then that the waiter brought a bottle of vintage wine to the table and allowed both Gil and Nick to sample it before pouring two glasses.

"Mr. Fiovanni sure knows his wine," Nick said appreciatively once they'd been left alone.

"Yes, he does, indeed," Gil concurred. Then, with a sigh, he added, "I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't think Alberto would even remember me, let alone make such a big deal over it."

"I guess you don't forget the man who saved your sister from a life behind bars."

"It was the evidence that exonerated her."

Nick nodded, knowing Gil didn't like to take personal credit for solving a case, always citing the evidence as the real hero.

"So, that was two years ago and this is the first time he's seen you here? Did he miss your name on the reservation list a time or two?"

Gil grimaced a little. "I get the feeling Alberto doesn't miss much," he said cryptically. "But in answer to your so carefully veiled question, no, I've never brought anyone else here."

"You weren't going to tell me that, though, were you?"

"No," he said honestly. "I didn't want you to think I was trying to pressure you into anything."

"I don't think that," Nick assured him. "In fact, I'm kinda glad you've never been here with anyone else."

Gil didn't think he'd ever tire of seeing Nick blush. "I'm glad, too."

They turned their attention to the menu and by the time their waiter had taken the order, they were both working on their second glass of wine and were feeling quite comfortable with one another.

"How did you know about the paragliding?" Nick asked, taking a small sip from his glass.

"Warrick told me. I didn't believe him at first. I didn't think anyone would want to take up the sport after what we'd seen on that case, but he assured me it was true. I still had to see it for myself to believe it, though."

"You saw me?" he asked, surprised.

Gil nodded, a strange look in his eyes. "I was watching you soar through the air, but all I could really see was Jimmy Mauer's broken body."

"I had no idea that you'd seen me, or that it would bother you so much."

"The following night I raked you over the coals for walking into an unsecured crime scene, remember?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, but that wasn't my fault."

"I know that now. For that matter, I knew it then, but it was an opportunity to lash out at you for foolishly risking your life paragliding and, well, I took it."

"I seem to remember a case with a bunch of dead roller coaster riders," Nick pointed out. "That hasn't stopped you from indulging in one of your favourite pastimes, though, has it?"

"Touche," Gil said with a nod and a smile.

"And the rock climbing?"

"You took that up right after that case where you processed that body drowned in the desert," Gil said.

Nick was shaking his head. "Is there anything you don't know?"

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" he replied with a cryptic smile.

The waiter brought their food and saved Nick from having to respond.

"This is good," he said after taking a few bites. "I can't believe you've known about this place all this time and you've never eaten here."

"I was saving it for a special occasion."

Nick smiled a little and ducked his head in a vain attempt to hide the blush rising in his cheeks.

The remainder of the meal was spent indulging in quiet conversation, some of which gave them further insight into one another, some just mutually interesting.

"I had a really nice time," Nick said as they pulled into his driveway.

"Me too," Gil assured him with a smile.

"Would you ... uh... like to come in for a drink or something?" he asked, his voice trimmed with nervousness.

"Only if you want me to," Gil said seriously.

Nick shook his head with a small laugh. "This is ridiculous. We've worked together for years, spent more time together than a lot of people spend with their own families and here we are tiptoeing around each other like a couple of strangers." He took a deep breath and looked into Gil's eyes. "I'd like you to come in for a while. This is the most enjoyable evening I've had in a long time and I'm not anxious for it to end. I'm not offering because I think I owe you anything for dinner. I'd like to spend more time with you, plain and simple."

"Plain and simple works for me," Gil said, obviously pleased with the words.

Nick nodded and waited until Gil turned off the engine before they exited the vehicle and went inside.

"What would you like?" he asked, taking off his jacket. "I have beer, wine, whiskey, soda, iced tea, coffee or water."

"Whatever you're having is fine," Gil said, laying his jacket over the back of a chair.

"My wine will never measure up after drinking Alberto's," Nick called from the kitchen. "How about a beer?"

"Sounds good."

He returned with two cold, opened bottles and handed one to Gil, who'd taken a seat at one end of the sofa.

"Thanks." Gil waited until Nick had seated himself in a chair across from him before smiling. "I had a really nice time tonight, Nick. I'm only sorry we never did anything like this sooner."

Nick considered that. "Not sure it would have been the same if we had," he said truthfully.

Gil understood perfectly. "Before I'd been willing to admit my feelings, you mean."

He nodded. "And before I'd looked more closely at mine."

Gil remained silent, determined to keep his promise not to pressure the other man.

"I guess it's no secret I've always admired you," Nick said quietly, "both professionally and personally, but somewhere along the line, it started to become more than that. I don't even know when or how, it just ..."

"Snuck up on you?" Gil offered with a small smile, remembering the conversation that had been interrupted by the sheriff's call.

Nick was shaking his head, not in denial, but in something akin to wonder. "I was trying to come up with reasons why I shouldn't ... feel that way about you, but all that came to mind were reasons why I should." He looked up to meet Gil's gaze. "Why I do."

Not wanting to assume anything, Gil waited.

"And maybe admitting it to myself should have made things easier, but it didn't." He took a long pull from his bottle while Grissom allowed those words to register.

"Maybe it's not supposed to be easy," Gil offered after a moment.

Nick contemplated that, fiddling with the label on his bottle. "What do you want, Gil?" he finally asked quietly.

Not an unfair question by any standards, but one that wasn't easy to answer succinctly. He wanted so many things, things he hadn't allowed himself to want for a long time, things he hadn't even realized were missing from his neat, orderly life. Opting for the most important of those wants, he took a deep breath. "I want you to be happy."

Brown eyes rose to meet his, caution and hope warring for dominance in the expressive face. "Happiness means different things to different people."

"What does it mean to you, Nick?"

He thought about that for a long moment. There were a lot of things that made him happy, but he knew exactly what Gil was asking and he wouldn't trivialize the question by pretending he didn't. "Belonging. Not to someone but with them. Someone I can share things with, someone I can trust to be there for me and who isn't afraid to trust me in return, who I can just be myself with, even on my worst days, and know that it's OK."

Gil smiled softly. "I suspect you're a better man on your worst days than many on their best."

He looked away for a moment, a hint of colour touching his cheeks. When their eyes met again, his expression was slightly pained. "What are we starting here, Gris? Because if it's just based on physical attraction, I don't think I can handle that right now. Not with you."

Gil looked momentarily like he'd been slapped, but his expression soon turned to one of sadness. "Is that really what you think this is?"

Nick got to his feet and paced in silence for a moment. "I don't know what to think," he finally admitted. "I just ... never even imagined that we'd ever be here like this. And now that we are, it's just way too much and not nearly enough at the same time. I suddenly have all these images in my head of how things could be, binding themselves together like some incredible rope that I can't resist climbing." He ceased the restless pacing, his voice growing softer as his gaze met Gil's. "But if they're not real, if I'm going to get to the top only to find out they aren't really anchored to anything, I'd just as soon let go now and brace myself for the fall."

Gil took a moment to marvel at the words and the honesty with which they'd been spoken, the way they revealed both strength and vulnerability and that fact that Nick wasn't afraid to show either. He realized, not for the first time, that the man standing before him might very well be one of the bravest he'd ever met. Such courage deserved more than the pain currently shining in the deep, brown eyes and Gil knew that he, alone, had the ability to replace it with something better. Slowly, he got to his feet, moving to stand directly in front of the other man. "They're anchored, Nick, I promise. And no matter how high you climb or how many times you need to let go, I swear I'll never let you fall."

Having no response ready for such a declaration, Nick could only stare wordlessly.

"I know I've let you down in the past," Gil continued quietly, "but I'd like to make it up to you." He paused for a moment. "If you'll let me."

He studied the blue eyes for a moment before shaking his head briefly. "We can't change what's already happened," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "All either of us can do is go on from here. If we start this, it has to be with a clean slate. No guilt, no regrets."

Reaching up to touch Nick's cheek gently, he allowed a look of pure sadness to wash over his features. "I do have regrets, Nick."

He stilled the hand on his face and squeezed it lightly. "Then we need to deal with them before this goes any further."

Gil searched his face for a moment before nodding once. "You're right."

Nick offered him a small smile. "If you're not in any rush to leave, I could put some coffee on."

"Coffee sounds good," he replied, his answering smile tinged with relief.

With a nod, Nick disappeared into the kitchen. Making the coffee gave him a chance to prepare himself for some of the subjects he knew would be coming up. As uncomfortable as he was with some of them, he realized that they needed to be dealt with before they had any hope of building a real friendship, let alone anything else.

When he returned to the living room, it was to find that Gil had once again taken a seat on the sofa. After placing the two steaming mugs on the coffee table, he did the same, leaving only a comfortable distance between them, his body angled so that they were facing one another.

"I was wrong about Crane," Gil began after a moment of silence. "Maybe not about what he wanted, we'll probably never know for sure, but in failing to acknowledge how his actions must have made you feel."

He was only momentarily taken aback by the stark admission. This was Gil Grissom, after all. Straight to the point.

"I wasn't trying to dismiss your feelings," Gil continued. Then, with a small frown, he added, "but I was trying to manipulate them."

"Manipulate them how?" Nick asked, genuinely puzzled by the words.

There was a slightly sheepish look in the blue eyes as they met his. "I wanted you to believe that his actions had nothing to do with you so that I could believe it, too." He paused a moment, hoping that he was making some kind of sense to the other man. "It was easier, for me, to think of you as an instrument than as a victim."

"Jane Galloway was the real victim," Nick pointed out.

"And Crane tried to lay that at your feet," Gil reminded him. "I knew, deep down, how you must have felt about that, but there was nothing I could do to change it. All I could do, at the time, was try to make you see that it was all on him. That you weren't responsible for her death, despite Crane's claims to the contrary."

"It took me a long time to accept that," Nick admitted quietly. "Maybe it would have helped to talk to someone about it, but .." He allowed the words to trail off with a small shrug.

"We're being open and honest here, remember?" Gil prodded gently.

Nick looked at him for a long moment as though calculating how far he could comfortably take the concept. "After hearing your theory, I guess I figured no one would be able to understand that it was personal for me. Regardless of his underlying reasons, it was my privacy he invaded, my life he was secretly watching. Jane Galloway's family had to identify her body with hair dyed to match my prom night pictures. Do you think it would have been any comfort to them to hear that it really wasn't about her?"

"No," he admitted. "And I realize, now, that it wasn't much comfort to you, either."

"It wasn't comfort I needed," Nick explained. "Hell, I didn't want to be a victim any more than you wanted me to. I just wanted to know that I had a right to feel the way I did and it felt like you were trying to take that away from me."

"In a way, I guess I was," Grissom replied, "but I realize, now, that it was wrong. I probably knew it then on some level, but I didn't want to admit it to myself at the time."

"For my part, I shouldn't have put so much stock in your views." He allowed a small, wry smile. "It's no secret that your opinion used to matter a little too much to me."

"And in this case, I took full advantage of that."

"You couldn't have if I hadn't let you," Nick pointed out.

"Perhaps," Gil conceded. "Maybe we both learned something."

"Makes it a little harder to see it as a regret, doesn't it?"

"Doesn't mean I wouldn't do things differently if I had it to do all over again."

Nick nodded slowly. "Yeah, me too."

They were silent for a moment, Gil looking at his hands, Nick watching him, knowing that there was at least one more hurdle to cross before they could relegate the past to its rightful place in their lives.

"I'd also change the way things went after... we got you back," Gil finally said softly.

As prepared as he thought he'd been, Nick still found the prospect of discussing it an uncomfortable one. He cleared his throat nervously. "In what way?"

Gil lifted his head to meet the other man's gaze. "For starters, I would have taken the first opportunity to tell you that you've never disappointed me, Nick."

His eyes widened at those words and Gil could only offer a small, sad smile. "I read lips, remember?"

Nick took a moment to let that register. "You were watching me when I made the tape," he finally concluded, his voice not much more than a whisper.

A barely perceptible nod was his answer.

Suddenly embarrassed, Nick got to his feet. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore."

In an instant, Gil was beside him, hand on his arm. "You don't have to talk, Nick, just listen. Please, I need to say this and I need you to hear it."

Nick closed his eyes at the words. He knew he couldn't turn down such a heartfelt plea. And maybe, just maybe, Gil was right. Maybe it was something they both needed before they could move on to whatever they were meant to be. Slowly, he nodded and moved to reclaim his seat on the sofa. Gil did the same, sitting just a little closer this time, his knee barely touching Nick's.

"When I went to visit you in the hospital, I wanted to tell you that you were wrong, that'd you'd never, once, disappointed me," Gil said quietly, "but when I saw you, all these other emotions came, unbidden, to the surface. Emotions that I, frankly, didn't know how to deal with."

"You mean anger."

Gil nodded briefly. "There was that. At Gordon for putting you in that position, at his daughter for refusing to help us find you. There was also relief that you were alive, and hope that the ordeal hadn't changed you. And above it all, there was a strong sense of wanting to make sure nothing or no one else could ever hurt you like that again."

"You didn't show any of that," Nick mused, thinking back to that visit in the hospital room.

Gil smiled wryly. "It was uncharted territory for me. Logically, I knew that I couldn't protect you from everything, but that didn't stop part of me from wanting to. I didn't know how to reconcile our previous relationship with those newfound feelings and so I did the only thing I thought I could at the time."

"You chose to stay away."

"For the most part," he admitted. "I got daily updates from Catherine on your progress, but I wasn't comfortable with the idea of being alone with you face to face. At the time, I didn't realize how strongly I felt about you, I just knew my feelings were unprofessional and inappropriate for a working relationship. I'd hoped that some time and distance would help turn back to the clock to a time when I was able to hide the fact that I was attracted to you, from myself if no one else. With everything you were already going through, you didn't need your emotionally inept boss around, hampering your recovery."

"What about when I returned to work?"

Gil sighed. "By that time, I'd given up on trying to change my feelings. All that was left to do was act on them, or blame the person responsible for them."

"Or you could have just talked to me."

He huffed a short, mirthless laugh. "Surely you can understand how I might not have seen that as a wise option under the circumstances."

Nick gave that the consideration it deserved and realized Gil was probably right. During the days and weeks following his ordeal, he couldn't say for sure how he would have reacted to such a conversation. "Maybe I can," he conceded.

"You were surrounded by people who cared about you. I didn't think you'd even notice my absence," Gil admitted. "Or care, for that matter. I realized I was wrong that morning that I came to see you after the mine collapse. I knew then that I hadn't helped you by staying away. Just the opposite."

"Is that why we're here now?" Nick asked. "So I can tell you it's all right and appease your conscience?" He knew the words sounded harsh, but the subject matter was making him increasingly irritable.

Rather than get angry at the comment, Gil merely shook his head. "If you said that, you'd be lying and we both know it. I'm not seeking forgiveness here, I'm just trying to explain my mindset at the time."

Nick was silent for a moment. "Maybe I can understand why you stayed away," he finally admitted. "I can even understand where the anger might have come from, but it still seems like a giant leap to go from that to kissing me."

"In hindsight, it really wasn't," Gil replied. "You were trying to get me to vent my anger. Anger that was based on feelings I'd never expected to have, feelings I couldn't act on and didn't know how to deal with. "

"So instead of acting on the anger, you chose to act on the feelings that generated it," Nick surmised thoughtfully.

"Evidently, my subconscious deduced that to be the more favourable outlet."

Nick's lips twitched slightly, but he didn't smile outright.

"I guess the one thing I really need you to believe is that I never intended for my actions to hurt you. Not one thing that I did or didn't do was because I didn't care. I do, Nick. More than you know."

"You might be surprised at what I know," Nick replied cryptically.

Gil lifted an eyebrow in question.

Nick looked away for a moment as though gauging how much he should say. When his gaze returned to meet Grissom's it was steady and clear, bereft of the fear and doubt that it had displayed earlier. When he spoke, his tone, too, was devoid of uncertainty. "I know I enjoy being with you. I know that I felt something incredible when you kissed me. I know that life's too short to waste time wondering what it all means or whether we're doing it right." He paused a moment, his eyes never leaving Gil's. "What I didn't know until recently was that I've come to care for you, too... as more than a friend."

Gil stared at him for a moment. "I have a sudden urge to pinch myself."

Nick grimaced a little. "I know that feeling. I thought I was losing my mind when you told me how you felt. Then, as I was trying to make it all make sense in my head, I realized it already did. More than anything has in a long time." He paused briefly, searching Gil's eyes. "This isn't a conclusion I came to lightly. In fact, I tried real hard to ignore it, but it won't let me do that anymore. Good or bad, whatever happens between us, there's not a damned thing I can do about how I feel."

Gil tilted his head slightly. "Would you change it if you could?"

"I don't know," Nick answered honestly. "I don't even know what it means for us. Our jobs, the team."

Gil knew that these were very real concerns and needed to be dealt with as such. "I'd been doubting my ability to be objective where you're concerned for some time," he admitted. "Even though I didn't realize the full extent of the reasons until recently. That's why I allowed Catherine to maintain full control over your assignments and evaluations even after the two teams were reintegrated. As long as you're reporting directly to her and not me, there's no case for impropriety."

"Sounds like you've been giving this some thought."

"Like you, I was trying to come up with reasons why we shouldn't pursue this," he admitted. "There was a time when the job would have been enough, but not once I realized how strongly I feel about you." He paused a moment, looking directly into the brown eyes before him. "The only reason that could possibly be important enough would be you deciding you don't want things to go any further. I meant what I said, Nick, I want you to be happy. If that means we're never more than friends, I'll accept that."

Nick took a moment to let the words and their implications register. "I wanted that for a long time," he said quietly. "For us to be friends, I mean, but over the last few days, I've let myself think about how much more we could have together and I'm not sure friendship would be enough anymore, not when we both want more."

There was silence for a moment as they sat looking at one another.

"May I kiss you, Nick?" Gil finally asked in a soft voice.

Nick licked his lips absently, his eyes darting to Gil's mouth before returning to meet his gaze. "Yeah."

Gil smiled softly and leaned closer, his lips meeting Nick's in a kiss that started out gentle but quickly deepened. It wasn't the first they'd shared, if counting the brief one in the mine, but there was a new intensity to it, both of them finally free to express all the feeling they'd been afraid to reveal to the other. By the time they parted, Nick's pulse had quickened and his breathing was noticeably heavier. "Damn, Gil," he whispered with a hint of awe in his voice.

"I've wanted to kiss you like that for so long," Gil breathed in response.

Nick's gaze softened as he gently touched the other man's cheek. "It's still hard to believe. All this time, I never knew..."

Gil kissed him lightly when the words trailed off. "I know. Me, neither. I just wish we hadn't waited so long to figure out how we really feel."

"Doesn't matter. We know now and that's what's important. It was worth every second if it meant we could end up here."

Gil cupped the square jaw in his palm. "This isn't where we end up, Nick. It's where we begin. At least that's my hope."

The words overwhelmed Nick more than any he'd heard to that point and he silently closed what little distance there was between them, pulling Gil into a deep kiss, lips devouring, tongues dueling, teeth nibbling. Strong arms wrapped themselves around him, pulling him close, and he returned the embrace as the kiss deepened further.

When their lips finally parted, it took a moment for any semblance of coherent thought to return. As it did, he found blue eyes fixed on his face, a myriad of emotions flickering through them.

"My head is telling me I should leave before this gets out of hand," Gil said, somewhat breathlessly. He touched Nick's cheek just as a slight sadness touched his expression. "I've already made so many mistakes where you're concerned," he whispered. "I really need to get it right this time."

Nick looked at him for a long moment before gently pushing him backwards until they were both reclining on the large sofa, his body half covering Gil's. He smiled and placed a soft kiss on the lips of the man looking up at him. "Feels pretty right to me."

Gil returned the smile and pulled him closer, shifting his weight slightly until they lay comfortably in one another's arms. "Damned near perfect," he breathed.

They lay in silence for a moment, Nick's fingers toying idly with the buttons on Gil's shirt, Gil's trailing lightly up and down Nick's arm.

"As for mistakes," Nick finally drawled quietly, "we both made 'em. No regrets, remember?"

Gil kissed his forehead lightly. "I'm finding it hard to regret anything that led us to this moment."

Smiling, Nick closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of the body next to his. "Damn near perfect," he muttered softly.

***

Nick awoke with a start, unused to the close proximity of another body. Leaning up on one elbow, he looked down into the face of Gil Grissom as the events of the previous night made their way to the surface of his memory. "Damn, Gil, I'm sorry."

"You should be," he replied with a teasing smile. "Holding you in my arms while you sleep is such a hardship." Seeing the flush of embarrassment in the other man's cheeks, he rolled his eyes and pulled him down until his head once again rested on his shoulder. "Don't apologize, Nick, you obviously needed it."

He relaxed enough to allow a small yawn. "I guess I haven't been sleeping well lately."

Gil kissed the top of his head. "I know."

"What time is it?" Nick mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Close to nine, I think."

He pushed himself up once again until he was leaning on one elbow looking down into Gil's face. "Did you sleep at all?"

A small smile touched his lips. "A little. When I wasn't watching you."

Nick blushed slightly and got up. "You probably need to move or something."

"While I'd like nothing better than to stay here like this all day," Gil replied, slowly pushing himself to a seated position, "my bladder obviously has other ideas."

"I'll make some coffee," Nick offered. "There's an extra toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink if you want it."

Gil lifted an eyebrow at the comment. "Have a lot of overnight guests, do you?" he asked, only half teasing.

"Dropped mine in the bowl once," Nick admitted with a small laugh. "Since then, I've made it a point to always have a spare one on hand."

"Good thinking," Gil replied on a chuckle as he got to his feet. When he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, it was to find a fresh pot of coffee brewing and Nick assembling omelet ingredients. "You don't need to go to all that trouble on my account. Coffee is fine."

Nick shrugged as he got out the frying pan. "We both need to eat." Flashing a teasing grin over his shoulder, he added, "Besides, it's the least I can do after you bought me dinner and I slept all over you."

With a hand on the younger man's shoulder, Gil turned him until they were facing one another. "It was my pleasure," he said with a soft smile. "On both counts." He leaned in for a kiss, but Nick subtly averted his lips.

"You might want to give a guy a chance to brush his teeth," he suggested with an embarrassed laugh.

"I will," Gil replied. "In a minute." He closed the small distance between them and proceeded to kiss the other man thoroughly.

All protests forgotten, Nick melted into it, his arms encircling Gil's waist, pulling their bodies closer together.

"Mmm," Gil murmured as their lips parted. "I love the taste of orange juice in the morning."

Huffing a small laugh and shaking his head, Nick extracted himself from the other man's arms. "There's more in the fridge," he said. "Help yourself and I'll be back in a minute to get breakfast going."

When he returned a few moments later, the rumpled clothes he'd been wearing the night before had been replaced with a t-shirt and sweats and Gil had taken over the breakfast preparations. Between the two of them, they had omelets, toast and fresh fruit on the table in a matter of minutes. They spent the majority of the meal engaged in small talk about hobbies and interests, but Gil noticed as Nick became increasingly quiet.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked quietly.

"Huh?" Nick looked up from his plate, slightly perplexed for a second. "No," he hastened to answer. "I just .. don't really know what we're supposed to do now."

Gil smiled softly. "I think we're already doing it. Spending time together. Getting to know one another. Isn't that the normal course of events when it comes to relationships?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, but ... we haven't really talked about what we're going to do about work, our friends. Do we tell them? Wait for them to figure it out? What?"

"What do you want to do?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Is it wrong that I just want to keep it between us for now?" he finally asked quietly.

Gil got up and moved to stand beside Nick's chair, taking his hand and gently pulling him to his feet. "If it is, then we're both wrong," he assured the other man as he slipped his arms around the trim waist, "because I feel the same way."

Nick breathed a small sigh of relief as his hands traveled slowly up and down Gil's back. "I keep thinking this should feel weird, being here with you like this, but it doesn't."

"Good," Gil responded, planting a light kiss on the other man's lips. "There are a lot of things I want to make you feel, but weird isn't one of them."

Nick absently licked his lips as he gazed into the other man's eyes for a long moment. "I knew it."

"What?" Gil asked with a small frown.

Nick shook his head, chuckling softly. "The other day, before you came over to talk, I was thinking about how you always had such control over your emotions." He paused a moment, searching the other man's face as his smile turned from one of amusement to something softer. "And I was imagining how it might feel to have you look at me the way you are right now."

Gil's lips twitched into a teasing smile. "Is that all you were imagining, Nick?"

He blushed slightly but maintained eye contact. "No."

They stared at each other for a moment, all teasing forgotten as they stood on the verge of what they could have – what they wanted – together.

"There's no rush to take that step, Nick. I'm not going anywhere."

Nick nodded slowly. "I know. But I already feel like I've been waiting a lifetime for this."

"For probably the first time in my career, I'm wishing I didn't have to go in to work tonight," Gil admitted. "In fact, I don't think I ever want to move from this spot."

"Maybe what you need is a little incentive," Nick teased with a smile. "Something to look forward to after work."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking I'd take you out for breakfast," Nick replied, kissing Gil's jaw lightly. "Then we could come back here or to your place and ... "

"And?" Gil winced a little at the way his voice cracked on that one simple word.

"And really get to know each other better."

The words, combined with the husky drawl in which they were delivered, went straight to Gil's groin, and he had to bite back a low moan. "Nicky," he breathed instead.

"Mmm," Nick murmured, nuzzling Gil's neck. "Say it again, Gil, just like that."

"Nicky," Gil obliged, cupping Nick's face to kiss him gently. "My Nicky."

He responded by pulling Gil into a much deeper, more lingering kiss. By the time it ended, they were both slightly breathless.

"You're really making it hard for me to leave," Gil said, resting his forehead against Nick's. "But I'm afraid I have to."

"I know," Nick agreed. "We both need to get some sleep before work and that's just not going to happen if you stay."

"But we're still on for tomorrow."

"Count on it," Nick replied with a smile. "Breakfast is on me."

Neither of them commented on the remainder of the following day's itinerary, but it was never far from either of their minds as they engaged in one long, final kiss before Gil reluctantly left in search of sleep and a very cold shower.

And not necessarily in that order.

*******

Nick arrived at work a full half hour before the shift started, entering the locker room to find Catherine already there.

"Hey," she greeted him with a smile. "You're early."

"So are you," he returned with a smile of his own.

"Paperwork," she replied, wrinkling her nose. "I heard about the Dawson case. Good job."

He nodded. "Thanks. I wish it had turned out differently, but at least we got the guy."

"No problems working with Grissom?" she asked as she pulled a sweater out of her locker.

"Why do you ask?" He busied himself with opening the locker door, unwilling to meet her gaze.

"I just know that things have been a little ... tense between you lately."

He frowned, unaware than anyone else had picked up on the tension between them. "Uh, yeah, well, we worked some things out, I guess." He looked up at her and offered a smile, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.

She seemed to study him for a moment before allowing a smile of her own. "Good." She closed the locker door just as her pager went off. "Ecklie," she sighed, checking the display. "I guess I'd better go see what he wants."

"I'll put a fresh pot of coffee on in the break room," he offered, "Just in case."

"Make it the good stuff," she said with a wry smile as she left the room.

A few minutes later he had the coffee brewing and was sitting at a table in the break room eating an apple and waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.

"Please tell me that's not all you've had to eat since breakfast," Gil intoned, coming into the room.

"Naw, I ate earlier," he replied with a smile. "I'm just killing time here, waiting for the rest of you guys to drag your butts in."

Grissom looked pointedly at his watch. "I'm still fifteen minutes early."

"And yet, I was still here fifteen minutes before you."

"And I was here before both of you," Catherine said, entering the room and putting an end to the teasing banter.

Both men immediately adopted a more professional attitude. "What did Ecklie want?" Nick asked.

"To let me know it's going to be a long shift," she sighed, waving the small stack of case descriptions at him. She turned to Gil and handed him one of the pieces of paper. "This just came in and he wants you on it."

Gil took the paper and read it aloud. "Possible murder suicide with special circs."

"Brass is already there and the coroner is on his way." She turned back to Nick. "Nick, you've got a DB in a room at the Tangiers."

"Foul play?"

"Nothing obvious as far as the responding officer was concerned. Check it out and let me know if you need an extra set of hands."

Nick nodded as Warrick, Sarah and Greg entered the room.

"What have we got?" Sarah asked.

Catherine handed her a sheet of paper. "Trash run on Bishop."

"I'll take that," Warrick said, taking the paper from her hand.

There was an uneasy pause as several sets of eyes flitted briefly toward Nick. To his credit, he smiled and winked at Warrick. "Watch your back, man."

"You know it," Warrick replied with a small smile of his own.

"Greg, trick roll at the Palms."

Any leftover tension was dissipated by Greg's exuberant, "Yes!"

"Sarah, you're with me. Triple homicide, possibly gang related."

Grissom looked around at the team with a small frown. "Why do I suddenly feel I've been rendered obsolete?"

Catherine smiled cheekily. "If you're going to stick me with 80% of the paperwork, the least you can do is let me hand out assignments from time to time."

Gil thought about that for a moment before nodding with a small smile. "You're right."

She was a little surprised at his easy acceptance of her challenge, but didn't let on. "All right then. We all have our assignments."

As the others made their way from the room, Catherine held back a moment. "I'll meet you at the truck, Sarah. Gil? Could I talk to you a minute?"

He turned to her with a questioning look once they were alone in the room.

"Ok, spill," she said simply. "You live to give out assignments."

"But as you so rightfully pointed out, we share the supervisory responsibilities now, both good and bad."

"Does that mean you're going to start doing your fair share of the paperwork?"

With only an amused smile in way of a response, he left the room.

"That's what I thought," she sighed, shaking her head with a knowing smirk.

*******

Two hours later, Nick was back at the lab, awaiting toxicology reports on the body in the hotel room. He'd processed the room thoroughly and had found no sign of foul play or violent incident.

"What have you got, Doc?" he asked, as he walked into the morgue.

Al Robbins looked up from where he'd just finished cleaning the body. "We won't know for sure until the final test results come back, but my preliminary findings indicate acute alcohol poisoning."

"Really," Nick said, frowning as he looked down at the body.

The coroner sighed. "Her blood alcohol level was .37%. Depending on contributing factors, a percentage as low as .01% can affect the cerebrum, the part of the brain that controls advanced function like recognition, vision, reasoning." He pointed to a diagram of a human brain. "Next to be affected is the cerebellum, the part of the brain that controls coordinating movement. Anywhere between .15% and .35%. The medulla controls such vital functions as respiration and heartbeat and can be affected by as low as .30%, depending on the individual, what other drugs they have in their body, blood sugar levels, etcetera."

"So she just drank herself to death," Nick intoned, shaking his head.

"Often a friend or loved one will figure they're doing them a favour, putting them to bed and allowing them to sleep it off. It's too bad more people aren't aware of the danger signs."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "Thanks, Doc."

When he left the morgue, Detective Vega was in the corridor talking to a very distraught young woman.

"Nick," he said, waving him over. "This is Samantha Ribaldi. She was with Miss Richards last night."

"Karen is my best friend," the woman said in a quivering voice. Her eyes welled with tears as she corrected herself. "Was. How could this happen?"

Nick took her arm and gently led her to a chair. "I'm sorry for you loss," he said as he took a seat beside her. "Can you tell me what happened last night?"

After taking a deep, shaky breath, she closed her eyes briefly before answering. "We were in Vegas with another friend of ours who's getting married next week. Denise went back to Michigan yesterday, but Karen and I decided to stay over one more night. We went to a club, had a few drinks, danced with a couple of guys." She looked at Nick with tear-filled eyes. "We were having such a good time."

"And then what happened?" he asked gently.

"Karen doesn't usually drink much, but we were having such a good time, you know?"

"Yeah," he said with an understanding smile. "So she drank more than she normally would, yeah?"

Samantha nodded. "I guess. We had a couple at the hotel before we left and then guys were buying us drinks at the club. I don't know how many she had exactly."

"Did she pass out at all?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. She said she was tired and that she'd had enough. The night was still young and I was really starting to hit it off with one of the guys we'd met." She took a deep breath. "So I took Karen back to the room and got her into bed. She went right to sleep and then I went down to the lobby to meet up with Jeff. We went to his hotel for a nightcap and by the time I got back..." She took a moment to regain control of her emotions. "They wouldn't let me into the room." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Do you know what happened?"

"We won't know for sure until the autopsy is done, but preliminary test results point toward acute alcohol poisoning."

She was shaking her head slowly. "I shouldn't have left her."

Nick caught Conrad Ecklie standing a few yards away, motioning to him. "I'm sorry," he said to the young woman. "Will you excuse me?" He got to his feet and exchanged a look with Vega who nodded and proceeded to talk to Samantha about identifying the body.

"What's up?" Nick asked as he approached Ecklie.

"We have a situation," he replied, grimly. "Are you about finished up, here?"

Nick glanced over at Vega and the woman. "Yeah. No crime, just a night of partying gone wrong." He turned back to Ecklie with a small frown. "What's going on?"

Ecklie sighed. "We have a hostage situation. Perp returned to the scene and is threatening to kill Grissom unless we let him take the woman's body."

Nick heard very little except 'hostage' and 'Grissom'. "Is he all right?" he asked, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"For the moment," Ecklie answered. "PD's got a negotiator at the scene trying to talk to the suspect."

"Wait a minute," Nick said, his frown deepening. "I thought it was a murder/suicide."

"Apparently a grievous miscalculation on somebody's part."

"You need me to go over there?" Nick asked hopefully.

"That's the last thing I need," Ecklie replied tensely. "Sidle already ignored my direct instructions and went to the scene. Catherine needs your help processing that triple they were working on."

Nick's mind was reeling. Grissom was in danger and there was nothing he could do without prematurely disclosing their relationship. A relationship they hadn't yet had time to explore.

"Stokes, you still with me, here?"

"Yeah," he said distractedly. "Yeah, sure."

"Brown's wrapping up a smash and grab over on Brighton. He'll meet up with you and Willows when he's done there." He took note of Nick's hesitancy and his expression softened somewhat. "There's nothing we can do for Grissom right now that PD can't do better."

He knew that was true, but couldn't help feeling as though he was abandoning the man. The man he'd only recently realized he cared a great deal for. "Yeah," he said sullenly. "Right."

"I'm going over there now. I promise to let your team know if the circumstances change at all."

Knowing it was the most he could expect, Nick nodded. "You do that." Without another word, he was heading for the parking lot.

*******

He was already at the scene and was helping Catherine to process the evidence when Warrick arrived. A short time later, a very sullen Sarah joined them and Nick briefly wondered if Ecklie had threatened her with unemployment to get her to return. No one spoke much except when necessary to the case before them, each having their thoughts dominated by the drama unfolding across town.

"That does it," Catherine finally sighed, looking around at the messy crime scene. "Let's get this stuff back to the lab and see who shot who."

Nick hung back while Sarah and Warrick started piling evidence into the trucks. "Uh, Catherine?"

She turned to him with a questioning look. "Yeah."

"I, uh... "

"What is it?" she asked, her expression one of growing concern.

He took a deep breath. "Grissom was there when I got out of that box," he finally said. "You all were, but ... I remember him talking to me, telling me not to move..."

She smiled slightly in understanding. "And you don't want Grissom to walk out of that house with only Ecklie there to greet him."

Neither of them voiced the fact that Grissom walking out of the house at all was a hope, not a guarantee. "Yeah, something like that."

"Go on. If Ecklie says anything, tell him to take it up with me."

His smile was one of gratitude. "Thanks, Catherine. Page me if something else comes up."

*******

The drive to the house seemed to take forever but, finally, he was pulling up among the emergency vehicles gathered there. Police cars, ambulance. Coroner's wagon.

"A real shame it had to end that way, but at least it's over," he overheard one detective saying to another.

Over? It was over? The relief instantly flooding his mind was just as quickly quenched by the other man's reply.

"Yeah, it's always worse when it's one of our own guys."

one of our own?

His gaze immediately went to the three body bags. Oh God. Gil? Gil!

In his mind, it was an ear-splitting scream and yet part of him knew that he'd uttered no sound. He couldn't. Couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't ... feel. All he could do was stare blankly at the darkly ominous bags. Gil was in one of them. Gil Grissom, his mentor, his colleague, his friend, his ... He'd never get to finish that thought. He'd never know what they could have been to one another. They'd barely touched on the possibilities before they'd been so cruelly snatched from their grasp. It just wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair at all.

*******

"You should go in the ambulance, get checked out," Conrad suggested.

"I'm fine," Gil assured him with as much conviction as he could muster. He grimaced a little. "Physically, anyway."

"At least let me give you a ride home," Ecklie offered.

Gil's gaze shifted to a spot over the other man's shoulder and he swallowed hard. "Nick?"

Ecklie turned to see Nick standing perfectly still, his face ashen and his eyes riveted on the three body bags. At first, he wondered why a man used to seeing bodies on a daily basis would look so devastated but then morbid realization dawned. "Jesus, Gil, he must think..."

Grissom didn't hear the rest as he began moving toward the man who'd occupied the majority of his thoughts over the last few hours. There had been moments during the ordeal when he wasn't sure he'd make it out alive and all he could think was that he'd never get the chance to tell Nick how much he really meant to him. He'd never again kiss him or get to hold him, or ... make love to him.

As his feet lessened the distance between them, his heart began to beat a little faster. Aware as he was of the myriad of people on scene, he wanted nothing more than to take the man in his arms and kiss away the grief he saw on the handsome face. At the last minute, he settled for a hand on his shoulder. "Nicky?"

Nick turned slowly, his eyes widening as he confirmed that the voice he'd heard was really Gil and not a cruel product of his imagination. "Gil. I thought... they said..."

Gil squeezed his arm and tried for an encouraging smile. "I'm OK."

"But ..." his eyes went once again to the body bags. "One of our own, they said."

He nodded slowly. "Pete Ramone. He was a rookie cop."

"A cop?"

"He caught his wife with another man and killed them both. In a moment of perverse remorse, he came back for her body."

Nick tried to process that, but all his thoughts were currently occupied by the man standing before him. "You're OK."

"Yeah, I'm OK. Really."

Having followed Gil, Ecklie joined them. "You all right, Stokes?"

Nick nodded, trying unsuccessfully to swallow the lump of whatever emotion was caught in his throat. "Yeah."

"Hell of a night," Brass said, appearing practically from nowhere. "Nicky," he greeted the younger man before turning to Gil. "Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm fine," Gil said once again.

Ecklie glanced at his watch. "Your shift's pretty much over anyway. I'll get someone from days out here to finish processing the scene and you can hand in your own report later."

Gil nodded, wanting nothing more than to be away from prying eyes so he could reassure Nick in his own way. Maybe reassure both of them. They'd come so close to losing something they'd barely had a chance to discover. "I should get back to the lab," he finally said, still looking at Nick. "Let everyone there know it's over."

"Yeah," he agreed, finally beginning to come out of the shock.

Gil turned to the other two men. "Thanks, Jim, Conrad."

"You need a lift?" Brass asked.

"Thank you, but my truck's right over there."

Nick wanted to protest but couldn't come up with a plausible reason to do so. The three men before him would think he'd lost his mind if he told them he didn't want to let Gil out of his sight even long enough to drive back to the lab. Mustering all the self control he could, he pasted on a wan smile. "See you back at the lab, then."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed for his own vehicle.

*******

Gil was greeted by four very relieved team members, each asking questions and expressing their joy at his safe return. It wasn't until he'd finished giving them a condensed version of what had happened that he noticed Nick was nowhere to be seen. He knew the man had been there; they'd parked their vehicles side by side in the lot and had walked into the building together until Gil had been surrounded by concerned colleagues and well wishers.

"If you'll all excuse me," he finally said, "it's been a long night."

"Do you need a ride home?" Sarah asked. "Maybe someone should stay with you."

"No need," he assured her kindly. "I'm fine. But thank you." As he was leaving the room, he turned to address them once again. "If anyone sees Nick, tell him I'd like to see him in my office, please."

"He went straight to the locker room when you guys came in," Greg informed him. "I'll tell him."

Gil nodded his thanks and headed for the privacy of his office.

A few minutes later, Greg knocked and popped his head inside, his expression only slightly concerned. "He's gone, Gris. Must have left while we were all talking to you."

Gil nodded slowly. "Thanks, Greg."

He sat at his desk for a moment after Greg left, thinking about the information he'd just learned. If Nick had left without a word to any of them, he was obviously still upset. Taking nothing with him but his jacket, he headed straight for the parking lot and his truck.

After sitting in Nick's deserted driveway for a moment, he let out a disappointed sigh. Nick obviously hadn't gone straight home when he'd left the lab, so where was he? Knowing he couldn't sit there all day waiting without drawing suspicion from the neighbours, he backed the vehicle out of the drive and headed for his own place.

The first thing he noticed as he turned the corner onto his block was the vehicle part a short way down the street. Nick's truck. His gaze immediately swept across to his townhouse where a dark figure could scarcely be seen on the shadowed porch.

Nick.

It was with a strong sense of relief that he parked his truck and made the short walk to join the other man.

"Hey," Nick said nervously. "I hope you don't mind, I ..."

"Of course not," Gil assured him when it became obvious the other man wasn't going to continue. "I already went by your place looking for you."

Nick let out a deep, shaky breath. "I just needed....to see you, I guess."

Gil unlocked the door and swung it open. "Come in, Nicky."

After only a brief hesitation, Nick stepped over the threshold into Gil's home, acutely aware of the other man's presence behind him. When he turned, it was to find that Grissom had closed the door and was looking at him with a combination of concern and empathy. "This is silly," he huffed with an embarrassed laugh. "I mean, I know you're OK. I was there. I just..."

Without a word, Gil closed the distance between them and took Nick in his arms, holding him close. "It's not silly," he finally murmured.

The softly spoken words and the physical contact combined to unleash the pent up emotions he'd been holding in check since first arriving on the scene. "Oh God, Gil..." he practically sobbed as he clung to the other man, burying his face in his neck. "I thought..."

"Shhh," Gil comforted him, rubbing small circles on his back as he held him. "It's all right. It's over. I'm here."

After a long moment, Nick pulled away slightly, his eyes glassy with tears. "Here we go again," he huffed with an embarrassed laugh. "Bawling like a baby."

Gil smiled tenderly. "Remember what you said to me in the mine? That it would be hard to know exactly what to say to someone after seeing that?"

Nick just shook his head though he remembered the incident well.

Gil gently took Nick's chin in his hand and tilted his head up until he could see into the expressive brown eyes. "You were wrong," he said softly. "I know exactly what to say to you right now." He stared intently into the other man's eyes for a moment. "I love you, Nick Stokes. I'm in love with you. The whole time I was in that house with Ramone, all I kept thinking was that I might never get a chance to tell you that."

Fresh tears welled in Nick's eyes at the words and he had to swallow the lump of pure emotion in his throat before he could reply. "I love you, too."

Their lips met in a hard, almost desperate kiss, the intensity rivaling only the depth of their feelings for one another.

"God, Nicky," Gil murmured when they briefly paused for breath. "I want you."

"Bedroom," Nick mumbled in response, his lips tracking a trail across Gil's cheek and down along his jawline before returning to the waiting mouth.

They moved as one through the living room, clumsily bumping into the occasional piece of furniture but neither willing to give up the physical contact for the sake of more graceful movement.

By the time they reached the bedroom, they were both breathless, lips red and glistening from their kisses.

"Are you sure, Nick?" Gil asked, reaching up to touch the other man's cheek. "I need you to be sure."

Nick cupped his face in both hands and stared evenly into the blue eyes. "I want this, Gil. All of it. With you. We could wait a week or a month and I'm never going to be more sure than I am at this moment."

Gil's response was to pull him into a long tender kiss. When their lips finally parted it was so they could look into one another's eyes as Gil silently began working on the buttons of Nick's shirt.

Nick reached up to help, only to have Gil's hands still his own. "Let me, Nicky," he whispered.

Nodding slowly, he allowed his arms to fall to his sides as Gil resumed his task. When the last button finally gave way, Grissom pushed the shirt of his soon to be lover's shoulders, letting it fall down his arms to land on the floor.

"Perfect," he breathed, running his hands almost reverently over the hard muscles of the other man's chest.

Nick could take the stillness no longer and reached to help Gil out of his own shirt. "I need to see you," he murmured.

"I'm no prize, Nick," Gil warned with a self-deprecating smile.

"You are to me," he replied, finally getting rid of the shirt and running his hands up the planes of his chest to his shoulders. "My prize."

They kissed again, bare chests pressed together for the first time, moaning pleasurably at the contact.

Before Nick realized what was happening, Gil was pushing him backward onto the bed, following him down until his own body blanketed the younger man's completely.

"You are so beautiful," Gil whispered, raising his head to gaze down at the man beneath him. "I still can't believe you're here."

Nick smiled in slight embarrassment at the words. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

That was all the reassurance he needed and Gil turned his full attention to making love to the man he'd been wanting for so long. Starting with the unbelievably soft lips, he blazed a trail of kisses across his jaw to his neck, then along the collarbone, pausing to suck lightly at the ridge.

"God," Nick groaned at the sensation.

"Sweet spot?" Gil teased.

Nick could only nod.

"I'll keep that in mind," Gil breathed on a chuckle, returning his attention to the broad expanse of the other man's chest. He worshipped the skin there with hands and lips, stopping only long enough to pay homage to first one dark nipple, then the other.

Nick gasped and arched his back slightly as Gil's teeth gently nipped at the hardening buds. "Gil, please..."

"I love tasting you," Gil murmured, "touching you." He continued with his ministrations, temporarily abandoning the dusky nubs to move lower, imprinting obscure patterns on the hard abs with lips and tongue. Only when he'd fully paid attention to every inch of skin available to him did he raise his head to look into the other man's heavy-lidded gaze. "I want to see you, Nicky," he whispered softly. "All of you."

Nick licked his lips then nodded slowly. He raised his hips a little off the bed while Gil deftly undid the button fly and slipped both pants and briefs down in one fluid motion. He had to move a little to extract them from the other man's legs, but he didn't go far, his gaze roaming over the newly exposed body before him.

"Gil?" Nick croaked, slightly unnerved by the blatant adoration he saw in the other man's eyes.

Gil's gaze slowly made its way back to Nick's, his smile tender as he leaned in to kiss him. "Not even my dreams could come close to the reality of this," he said softly.

Nick smiled rather self-consciously. "I think maybe my dreams were a bit better than the reality."

Gil frowned slightly, his gaze questioning, though he didn't dare ask.

"Seeing as, in reality, you've still got your pants on."

Smiling in relief and amusement, he leaned in to kiss the younger man again before getting off the bed entirely. Slowly, he unfastened his pants and allowed them to slide down his legs to the floor. His boxers followed until he stood, naked and vulnerable to the gaze of the man who lay watching him.

Nick looked his fill and then smiled up at the other man, reaching out one hand toward him. "C'mere."

Gil readily joined him on the bed, pulling him close for a long, deep kiss.

"Way better than any dream I ever had," Nick said once they'd parted.

"The best is yet to come, Nicky, my boy."

He reached out slowly, his hands stroking the handsome face. He kissed the fluttering eyelids reverently before moving on to trail his lips gently over the cheekbones and down to the impossibly square jaw.

Only when he'd covered every inch of his lover's face did he continue his downward journey, hands following lips as they paid homage to the other man's throat, his shoulders and chest as Nick began to writhe beneath the man so slowly seducing him.

"Gil," he whispered on a sigh as his new lover's lips found their way to the base of his twitching cock.

But Gil didn't stop there for long. After placing a gentle kiss on the head, he moved on to the taut ballsac beneath, tonguing the full globes and then blowing softly over the moistened skin.

Nick fisted his hands in the bedclothes, his head pressed back as the sweet assault continued. His entire body thrummed with anticipation, torn between wanting to end the delicious torture and wishing it could go on forever.

Gil gently stroked his way down the strong legs taking time to kiss each toe and the slender arch of each foot before making his way back up to the throbbing member awaiting him. After placing another soft kiss on the leaking head, he took it slowly into his mouth until he'd engulfed it in its entirety.

"Gil," Nick moaned. "Gil, please."

He began to suck slowly, his head moving up and down in his ministrations, his tongue swirling around the head on every upstroke. After a few moments spent prolonging the delicious torture, he took the turgid member into the back of his throat and swallowed.

"Damn!" Nick gasped, bucking uncontrollably at the sensation.

Gil grinned as much as he could around the mouthful of flesh. When Nick's desperate movements signaled he was close, he reluctantly withdrew and sat back on his haunches, his hand stroking soothing patterns on Nick's upper thigh.

"Wha...?" Nick objected, his eyes glassy and dazed.

"Shh, we're just getting started," Gil explained gently. He leaned in and kissed the swollen lips as he reached across to the nightstand for a condom and a tube of lube.

He slowly lifted Nick's legs to rest on his shoulders before coating two fingers with the cool gel. His eyes never left Nick's as he traced the puckered opening slowly before slipping the first digit inside. Nick's eyes widened slightly as his soul seemed to take flight, soaring high beyond the limitations of physical pleasure. He vaguely wondered if such pure, unfettered bliss was meant to be experienced by those still bound to earth.

Gil stroked slowly in and out a few times before adding a second finger. "Relax," he encouraged when Nick tensed slightly. Nick nodded once and grasped the man's biceps.

Continuing to work his fingers in his lover's tight ass, Gil watched the emotions playing on Nick's face with a hint of awe. The man was nothing short of beautiful to start with, but in the throes of passion his natural beauty combined with an eroticism that took Gil's breath away.

"Please, Gil," Nick pleaded, bringing the other man out of his trance-like state.

After withdrawing his fingers, Gil sheathed his cock and lubed it before positioning the head at Nick's prepared opening. "Take a deep breath," he instructed softly. Once Nick had complied, he began to push gently. "Now let it out."

Nick complied, nodding slightly and willing his body to relax against the intrusion. The pain eventually morphed into an incredibly pleasurable sensation and he moaned softly, Gil's signal to continue. Slowly, he continued pushing his way inside until he was buried to the hilt. "So tight," he murmured, his jaw clenched as he gave them both time to adjust.

"In ... credible," Nick breathed, shifting his hips slightly and gasping as the head raked his prostate. "Damn!"

Gil grinned and pulled out slightly, only to push back in stroking the same spot.

"Gil!"

"Feel good?" Gil asked, lengthening his strokes.

"Hell yeah," Nick panted. Pulling Gil's head down, he kissed him hard and deep, raising his hips to meet each of Gil's thrusts and pulling the other man even deeper inside.

Gil increased the pace until they were both on the brink.

"Oh, damn!" Nick exclaimed. "Gil!"

Gil grabbed the other man's rock-hard shaft and began to stroke in time with his thrusts. Nick clung tightly to his neck and called out his name as he erupted between their sweaty bodies.

The feel of Nick's warm seed in his hand and the sound of his name on the tempting lips was enough to send Gil over the edge as well. With one final, deep thrust, he gasped out Nick's name and emptied himself into the condom.

"Wow," he gasped as he collapsed beside the other man.

Nick stretched out his legs and sighed in pure contentment. "Yeah... wow."

Gil chuckled wearily, removing the condom and dropping it into the wastebasket beside the bed before taking Nick in his arms once again, smiling gently as the other man snuggled close, resting the dark head on his shoulder.

They both basked in the afterglow, hands stroking cooling skin as heartbeats and breathing returned to normal. After a moment, Nick turned his head and kissed Gil's cheek gently. "That was incredible. Is it always that good?"

"I think it is when you're with the right person," Gil replied sincerely.

Nick rolled until he was laying half on top of the other man. Looking down into the warm blue gaze, he asked quietly, "No regrets?"

Gil stroked his cheek with one finger, smiling warmly. "Not one."

Nick smiled back and lowered his head for a deep kiss. It didn't matter what had transpired to get them to that moment. All that mattered was that they were ready and able to face whatever was to come.

Just as long as they faced it together.

***

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• Gil/Warrick stories
• Nick/Greg stories
• Nick/Warrick stories
• Greg/Warrick stories
• Nick/Bobby stories
• Jim Brass stories
• David Hodges stories
• f/f stories
• CSI: New York stories
• CSI: Miami stories
• Other pairings & threesomes
• Gen CSI stories
• C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation: The Complete Ninth Season