Title: Evident Risk
By: Macx
With thanks for Sally-Ann for the Sara-Brass talk idea.
 

 
He can't die.
He can't....
Gil Grissom stared at the pale, slender form on the hospital bed, surrounded by machines. Tubes and wires were running to and from the unconscious body - controlling, monitoring, feeding and breathing.
Breathing for Nick.
He can't, he thought desperately. He just can't.
Broken ribs. Massive blood loss. Hypothermia. Early stages of pneumonia. The list went on. Each and every injury alone would have been bad, but they had all combined and were now threatening to take a life.
A life so precious to Grissom.
A life he couldn't lose.
Not to death.
He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing himself not to think of it. Ignore the machines, ignore the deathly pallor, ignore the medical facts.
Gil wasn't a man prone to praying, but today, he was really coming close to it. He prayed for Nick to continue fighting because if he lost, if he died, things would change dramatically for all of them.
It would change things irreversibly and forever.

* * *
 
Catherine Willows sat on the hard chair in the waiting room, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her guts. Like all of them, she knew the facts, and she had heard the chances Nick had. They were slim. The blood loss had weakened him, the cold had permeated his battered body, and pneumonia had set in not much later. Congested lungs, broken ribs, concussion. It was all up to the young criminalist. Should he lose or give up, it would destroy Grissom first and foremost.
Nick was his life, he was his anchor, and without him, Grissom would become adrift. It had been evident from the first moment on when the two men had taken the first but final step into a relationship Catherine had monitored ever since. Her friend had gone into it willingly, but she doubted he had had an idea what it would encompass, what it would change in him. Nick had turned his life around, had shown him new sides, new facets, and Gil was enjoying it. Like Catherine was enjoyed watching the two men.
Now something had destroyed the peaceful picture.
It had been such an easy, slow evening with just two crime scenes. One in the city, inside a casino, apparently a stabbing between rivals fighting for a slot machine. Catherine and Sara had been on it. The other a body found in the desert, naked, male, apparently already picked at by the animals. Grissom had been there, calling for back-up in form of Nick Stokes, who would have had his day off tonight. As it was, Warrick Brown was busy with a court date and so Nick had been on the receiving end of the call.
Just... he had never made it.
Catherine shivered briefly and looked over at Warrick. The man looked decidedly pale under the chocolate brown skin, sick, exhausted... really bad.
When Nick hadn't shown, hadn't answered his cell phone, and dispatch had been unable to get a hold of him either, Grissom had called Warrick. Brown had been just out of court and he had instantly responded - only to stumble over the terrible accident site.
A truck had crashed into the Tahoe Nick had been driving, pushing it off the road, tumbling it down an incline and into the ditch. The truck had overturned and the driver had been thrown out. He had died instantly. Nick had been buckled in, but the terrible force of the impact had done its share of damage. He had been lying there for hours, bleeding, freezing, suffering... dying.
Not dying! Catherine thought firmly. He would be okay. He would heal.
Drawing a deep breath she rose, unable to sit still any longer. She left the room and walked down the corridor to the ICU ward.
Grissom was still there, spending the time he was allowed to be near Nick plastered to the chair at the bedside. Tired, almost exhausted beyond words, he was gazing at the younger man. It broke Catherine's heart to see her normally so unflappable and controlled boss slowly lose it, crack and fade - become human.
She stayed at the other side of the glass wall that separated the world outside from the intensive care unit. A nurse looked her way, but she shook her head.
"Waiting," she said softly.
He nurse nodded and returned to her work, but not without keeping a subtle eye on her.
Finally, after ten more minutes, Grissom rose, slowly placing the lax hand he had held onto the white sheets. He seemed so old all of a sudden that it scared Catherine more than the desperation clearly visible in his eyes.
She met him at the basket where Grissom dropped the disposable gown he had to wear inside ICU, taking in the pale visage.
"Come with me," she only said, taking his arm.
He didn't even protest.

* * *
 
The hospital cafeteria was two floors up and almost at the other side of the building. Catherine got them both a coffee and walked to the corner table that was surrounded by enough greenery to hide them from prying eyes. Grissom was gazing at the table top, a frown on his features, as if deep in thought. He looked up when she placed the cup in front of him.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"You're welcome. Guess you need it as badly as I am. Maybe even worse."
He was silent, contemplating the depth of the black liquid.
"Who's handling the crime scene?"
Catherine had a moment to be surprised, then she chastised herself. This was Gil Grissom she was talking to. Master of his emotions, Master Supreme of keeping work ahead of personal things.
"Warrick and Sara."
"Good. I don't want anyone else on it."
Exhausted blue eyes met hers. Catherine reached over and squeezed one wrist.
"We'll handle it, Gil."
"Thanks."
"You know you need to sleep, right?"
A nod, but it looked like Grissom hadn't even understood her.
"Gil!"
His eyes snapped back at her, looking mildly confused, then annoyed.
"Get some sleep," she repeated. "Nick's in good hands and for now, we can't do anything."
"I know."
"But you're stubborn and won't leave."
He gave her a grimace of a smile. "Probably."
"Grissom, please. I know how hard it is for you, but you have to be in shape. I know, Warrick knows, and we'll cover for you as much as we can, but you've got to help us out. Having you dead on your feet, miles away, hanging around here, won't help!"
She knew she was being cruel. In Grissom's place, she would try and be here, too, but only a few people knew about the deeper relationship between the two men and Grissom couldn't risk not going to work, or staying here all the time. Not if he wanted to keep the secret and she was convinced that for now, he would. Not for his sake; Grissom couldn't care less about what others thought. For Nick.
"Please?"
"Okay."
"Your word on it?"
He smiled wryly. "You want me to swear an oath?"
"If it gets you out of here, yes."
Another smile. "I'll behave, Catherine. I promise."
She squeezed the wrist again, nodding. "Good."
Twenty minutes and another cup of coffee, this time with a sandwich, later both left. Grissom didn't drop by the ICU again, but he talked to the doctor once more, leaving his cell phone number for any kind of emergency. Since Nick's parents were in Texas, the doctor saw nothing wrong about it having the supervisor's number.
"You gonna call them?" Catherine asked as they stepped into the midday heat.
"Who?"
"Nick's parents. They have to know."
Grissom frowned. "Yes. Yes, I'll call them."
Catherine gave a friendly pat. "And call me."
"About what?"
"Whatever. Talk. Take a drive. Walk around the block. Have coffee. Just call before you hole up, okay?"
He nodded.
"See you Monday then."
And with that, she had to leave him alone. Catherine hated it, but she knew Grissom would never let her come home with him, or drive him there.

* * *
 
In the closely monitored room of the ICU, an alarm went off. The tracing on the ECG monitor was nothing but a straight line. The alarm sounded shrilly and was almost lost in the commotion now erupting.
"Asystole!" one of the nurses called out.
"Code 99, Shock Trauma Unit!" the doctor bellowed.
The hospital paging unit came to life within seconds and the crash cart unit burst in. They moved into action without hesitation.
"Everybody clear!"
The staff stepped away from the doctor holding the electric defibrillator paddles as he pressed them against the left side of their dying patient. A jolt raced through the body, making it twitch involuntarily. The tracing on the monitor twitched once.
"Again!"
Another jolt.
"Piggyback a bottle of high-dose epinephrine, and titrate!" the doctor shouted.
The pharmacist complied.
The ER unit continued to try and save Nick Stokes's life.

       * * *
 
The news about Nick's near-miss had shocked everyone. Sara had felt a moment of absolute nothing, then fear had settled in, followed by emotional pain, but she had immediately buried herself in work again. It was her way of coping.
Still, part of her had caught sight of Grissom now and then, had seen him move around like a puppet, completely absorbed in whatever world he currently lived in. Ever since Nick's accident, Grissom had changed. Something about him was... wrong.
Sure, he was the supervisor, he was their friend, too, and he cared about every single one of the team.
And he was together with Nick.
He had been worried when Nick had been thrown out of the window by Crane; he had been involved in trying to help Warrick and his gambling problem; he had been as shocked as everyone when Greg had been caught in the lab explosion. But this time, it was more.
He was together with Nick.
She shut the small voice up, not wanting to think about it. Sara knew about the two men, though neither of them was aware of it. She had never confronted Grissom or Nick with her knowledge. It was something that still hurt her.
She had watched them, closely. She had tried to see what lay underneath. Nothing. There was nothing to tell the outside world of their involvement. There had been a time she had expected more out of her platonic relationship with the older man; now it would never be.
She still had to accept that. And it would take time.

       * * *
 
He can't die.
The words seemed to be the only thing floating around in his mind lately.
Now, after the shocking news from the hospital, listening to a Dr. Harvey telling him that Nick had flat-lined and nearly died, Grissom couldn't feel anything anymore. Well, not much despite fear that is.
Nick had flatlined. But had he died?
He had visually checked his lover the moment he had been allowed to visit, but underneath the breathing mask and with the pale skin, he looked bad already. Did he look younger? He couldn't tell.
He can't die... he hadn't died. The mantra changed, becoming more and more of a prayer.
But he had to start dealing with the 'what ifs' soon. He couldn't keep on ignoring it.
For three days now, Grissom had been hardly concentrating enough to do his job. Catherine was covering for him, as was Warrick, especially around Sara. She still didn't know about his relationship with Nick - at least neither of the others had told her and Grissom wasn't currently able to ponder the what ifs.
The weekend had passed in a blur. He had tried not to stay at the hospital all the time, but whenever visiting hours allowed, he was with Nick. He had called his lover's parents and had heard that they weren't home; wouldn't be home for another five weeks. Grissom remembered Nick telling him about his parents' plans about going to Australia and New Zealand. So much for that.
The complications arising from Nick's death would be... massive. For one... the body. If he truly died and couldn't be reanimated, they would have to think fast and remove the body. No one could be allowed to perform an autopsy. No one could be allowed to be around Nick until he started to live again.
Then there would be the fact that after Nick's death, he and Grissom would have to disappear. Just like that. Up and leave. Grissom could pull it off, he knew, but Nick... he had a large family and he wasn't really ready to never contact them again. Grissom knew there were so many places they could go, here in the US, Canada, and all over the world, but it would mean giving up everything.
Like Nick, he wasn't really ready for it.
Phoenix or no Phoenix, Nick's death would be the end. They wouldn't even be able to fake him coming back to life like Grissom had after the almost fatal appendectomy all those years ago. Nick would regenerate into a younger version of himself, a twenty-six year old version. There was no way to explain the difference in looks.
He can't die, Grissom thought again. He has to live.
The morbid thoughts running around his head were strangely unreal. He wasn't thinking about the loss of a life, Nick's life. He was thinking about the consequences. He was thinking about all the complications, about how to handle the revival.
Grissom smiled humorlessly as he watched his partner struggle to live. He had come a long way in the short time both men had been 'diagnosed' as paranormals. Acceptance had settled in and in the end, he had actually started to deal with it. Grissom wasn't the one to ignore a problem, but this had been far more than a problem. It had been life-altering.
So Nick couldn't die.
Not just yet anyway. There was so much more to do. Grissom knew he would leave this life behind voluntarily to go wherever his lover went if it happened, but he wouldn't do it gladly. Not just yet. In a few years, yes. Now? No. Not really.
A nurse entered the room, checked the monitors and lines, then nodded at Grissom. It was strange that he was allowed to stay with Nick all the time, but he didn't really want to question it too deeply.
After another long time alone, just holding Nick's hand, stroking his thumb over the pale, cool skin, another visitor disturbed the reflective mood. Catherine's face showed a smile as she greeted him softly, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"How is he?" she asked.
"Still holding on."
Her slender hand squeezed his shoulder and Grissom took strength from that simple gesture.  For Catherine, it seemed he was suffering because Nick had been nearly killed, was still in danger of dying, while reality was completely different. He was afraid of what happened afterwards.
Nick can't die.
"Brass called, wanted to know how you and Nick are."
Grissom shot her a weary, questioning look. "Me?"
Catherine answered with a smile. "Told him you're both fighters."
"I'm not the one in the hospital bed."
"No, you're the one just as badly affected, though."
Did Brass know? Somehow, Gil didn't care. Right now, he didn't give a damn about who knew what about him and Nick.
"Prelim data from the crash came in," she went on, watching him with eagle eyes.
Grissom nodded. "Well?"
"Sloppy maintenance, intoxicated driver. Brass is on it."
He gazed at his lover again, still holding the lax hand. "Thanks."
Another squeeze to his shoulder. "You're welcome. You need anything?"
For Nick to survive this, to live. Not to die.
"I'm fine, thanks."
"Liar."
And with that Catherine left him alone again, surrounded by medical equipment, keeping watch over Nick.

       * * *
 
"I've got the results."
Grissom looked up from his work and Greg looked into a pair of tired, blue eyes that reflected what the older man felt quite clearly at the moment. But only for a moment. Grissom got control of his expression and the professional was back.
"Well?" he asked.
Greg smiled slightly. "Husband's DNA. On both samples. It's a clear match."
No flamboyant presentation, no Greg Sanders Special. Greg wasn't in the mood for anything humorous.
"Good. Tell Sara and Catherine."
Greg nodded solemnly. "Will do." After a moment of silence in which he held the other man's eyes, he asked, "How are you?"
His voice was serious, without the usual bounce in it, without the over-the-top performance. Grissom's frown showed that he had picked up the difference and could tell who he was talking to: Greg Sanders the ally, not the lab rat.
"Shouldn't you ask how Nick is?"
"I heard how Nick is, Grissom," Greg replied levelly. "How are you?"
"Busy."
Greg frowned, letting the displeasure show. There might be an age difference, there might be a difference in experience, and there was most definitely the gap of superior and employee, but this was far outside CSI matters.
Grissom sighed and put down the file he had been reading. "I'm handling it, Greg. Satisfied?"
"No."
"No?"
"No, you're not handling it. You've never really handled it, Grissom. You ignored that it might happen. And no, I'm not satisfied."
The frown deepened.
"I know you don't like to hear this, but you and Nick are paranormals. You've got to get your act together and accept this part of you world. Especially since you're both Phoenixes," Greg explained, voice strong and decisive. "You never worried about what might happen if he died. Never. For you, it's easy. You already had the experience and no one took notice. Well, damn, but for Nick it'll be the shock of a life time."
Grissom's face transformed from curious to surprised to quizzical. There was no anger there for Greg to see.
"You're right. I ignored it," he finally said.
Greg wasn't particularly shocked to hear the words. Grissom normally didn't argue something so obvious.
"I should have come to you."
Sanders shook his head. "Wrong person to ask. My experience in those matters is limited. I just help out when needed. Ask vampires or shamans."
"Know any vampires?"
"Matter of fact, yeah, I do." He flashed a cheeky grin. "But you got the best chances with a shaman."
"And I know one." Grissom smiled.
"There you go."
Greg turned back to the door, satisfied.
"Greg?" Grissom's voice stopped him.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, boss."
And with that he left the office.
He knew what was on the line. Not just one life, but two. Two existences, two futures - and the nightshift of the criminalistics bureau of Las Vegas. Nick's death would be accepted, sure. There was nothing to do but accept what might happen. Another colleague who had been killed; like Holly Gribbs. Not shot or stabbed; not by a deranged killer or some stalker. A car accident because of a drunk driving a dangerously mismaintained vehicle.
Sara, Warrick and Catherine wouldn't resign because of Nick's death. They would continue working, would have to accept a new colleague, and in the end, everything would function. But it would put a damper on things; forever.
And then there was Gil Grissom. Greg knew what his boss would do. Resign, move somewhere else ... find a new life for himself and Nick. A much younger Nick, Greg added. Which was the main problem. Death and a Phoenix's rebirth could be covered up, but since Nick would loose a considerable amount of lifetime, it wouldn't be easy to explain his much more youthful looks to people who knew him.
Getting Grissom to seek out a shaman's help was the first step. This time, they might scrape it, but next time, it could be too late to ask.

* * *

Nick's return to consciousness happened while Grissom was on a case. It was throughout the night and just briefly. Monitors registered increased respiration and heart beat, and one of the nurses was there, talking, smiling, reassuring. The nightshift doctor was called, checked responses, wrote some notes, but Nick had already slipped off into sleep again.
The second time, it was in the morning. Again, his responses were checked, he was calmly reassured that everything would be fine, and he could even answer questions with a nod or by blinking his eyelids.
When Grissom visited that day around noon, his face broke into a warm, delighted smile at the sight of Nick's open thought slightly dazed eyes.
[Hey] he signed.
Nick smiled, blinking tiredly. One hand twitched, but he couldn't lift it. Gil gently took it, squeezing the still too cool fingers.
"The doctors already told me you woke," he said softly. "Good to have you back."
Another tired smile and the brown eyes were fighting not to slide shut. Grissom leaned forward, brushing his finger over one temple and down the stubbly cheek.
"Don't fight it, Nicky. You need sleep."
Nick obediently closed his eyes and was asleep moments later. Grissom just sat there, smiling, relief fighting with the still present dread that Nick might die.
But he would make it. He firmly believed so.

       * * *
 
"Hey, man," Warrick called as he walked into the break room, noticing his boss sitting in the corner of the couch, sipping coffee and reading a folder.
"Warrick."
Warrick closed the door behind himself and quickly swept a look around. No one here.
"How you doing?" he queried softly.
For a moment he thought Grissom would brush him off, remark on something work-related, but then the face changed briefly. "I'm fine, thank you."
Warrick nodded. Like everyone, he was keeping up to date with Nick's condition and it really hadn't worsened. Hadn't improved much either, but at least, after the shocking news of the heart failure, everything seemed stable.
"Cool. Listen, that hit-and-run you gave me...."
And they were back to business. In a way, it was how they dealt. Warrick took his cues from Grissom like everyone and work was the best way to keep them occupied, to stop them from imagining what might be if Nick died.

       * * *
 
Sara sat in the break room, curled up on the couch, enjoying the quiet and relative emptiness of the building Between Shifts. The news of Nick making it through had been received with a lot of smiles. Lab technicians were suddenly more at ease and the criminalists of all shifts wore an expression of relief. She had seen the weight that had settled on Grissom's shoulders lift, had seen him smile more, witnessed the life returning to his eyes that had been shadowed before.
Nick would live - to love Grissom.
It hurt her. A very dark part of her had mulled over the possibilities should the younger man die. It had quickly been erased by her conscious mind. How could she think such a thing? Grissom and Nick were her friends! They had found love in each others...
...who was she to envy them that connection?
A woman who had wanted Grissom, was the answer. She had never had a chance, even before Nick, but back then she had still been able to dream. Now it was over; reality had settled in.
Playing with the spoon, scraping partially melted ice cream from the small tub she had taken from the freezer, she licked off the sweet sin.
"Do you CSIs live here?"
Sara looked up and gave Jim Brass a tired smile. "Hey."
"Hey to you, too. I thought shift was over and you have too many hours accumulated to be qualified to work here for the next millennium?"
Brass sat down on the second couch.
Sara shrugged, cleaning out more ice cream.
"That bucket and that look tell me that something's bothering you, Sara."
"You are the detective," she replied.
"Yep. And I've got the badge to prove it. I thought Nick pulling through would be reason to celebrate, not drown yourself in ice cream."
"I'm happy."
And it sounded flat.
"Right." Brass regarded her closely. "You're beside yourself with joy."
Sara gave him a dark look, then forcefully put down the bucket, closing it with the lid. "I'm really glad Nick's going to be okay," she repeated.
"But you're not happy about what it means for you, right?"
"What?"
Brass smiled. "Don't give me that, Sara. You found out about those two. Grissom and Nick. You got hit by the broad side of a barn and you're just picking up the pieces. You saw how much Grissom cared about Nick, how much he's in love with the guy, and you can't accept it."
Sara knew her mouth was hanging open in shock at the clear words. "How...?"
"How do I know? Well, let me put it this way: I've known Gil Grissom for a long time now. I might not know the person, but I know him as a friend. I figured part of him out by what we call 'observation' in detective circles." He gave her a sardonic grin. "I knew Gil was bisexual, I just never figured him to risk it with Nick. When I was proven wrong, all the better. You noticed the changes in him, right? Nick's good for him, he's good for Nick. You either accept it and move on, or leave it and never bother with it again. Only two choices. Everything else is hypothetical."
Sara looked at the older man, dumbstruck.
"Sara, he loves Nick," Brass said, voice soft and intense. "You cannot hope to get between them. It happened, deal with it. Grow up."
The last two words shocked her. She evaded the piercing gazes, staring at the rug on the floor.
"I know you had hopes, girl. They were never real. Even without Nick."
"How do you know?" she demanded.
"You tried it, right? Openly or with underhanded sneak attacks. It never worked. Grissom is your friend and supervisor; nothing more, nothing less. Deal with it."
She swallowed and Brass rose.
"Think about it," was his last advise before he left the break room.
Sara remained behind, looking at the ice cream bucket where the rest of the comfort food was melting slowly.
Deal with it.
She had to.
And she had to start now.
 
       * * *
 
Each day was hell.
Each day was torture.
Each day meant a day closer to the moment he could leave.
Nick lay in his bed, his private room, trying to ignore the ever-present IV line running into his body. He tried to ignore the twinges when he moved the wrong way. He tried to ignore the subtle tremor of pain behind his eyes. And he tried to ignore the boredom, the longing to do something other than lying around, watching mindless TV. That was harder than anything else.
Ten days.
He had spent ten days in this place, five of which he had fought for his life. Another five watching the man he loved trying not to fuss, not to look worried, and not to hover.
Grissom failed miserably in all three categories. Whenever he had a free moment, he either called or dropped by. Sometimes Warrick or Catherine came along. Each moment spent with his partner gave Nick a little shot of happiness and he craved the day he could go home.
There was a little knock and the door opened. Nick smiled as he discovered Grissom.
"Hey," he called.
"Hey."
The door snapped shut and Grissom walked over to him, a warm, private smile on his face. It wasn't even noon yet and Nick wondered if Gil had just gotten off shift. He certainly looked tired.
"Long night?"
"Double homicide, one burglary, one home invasion." Grissom shrugged.
Nick tugged at the hand and Gil didn't need more prompting to lean forward and claim a little kiss. "Get some sleep," he whispered.
"For a sick man, you're bossy."
"Someone has to take care of you."
Grissom smiled. "I'll be back tonight. You need anything?"
"My own bed. You. Home."
A chuckle. "That's not for me to decide, nor in my power to make it happen."
"Yeah, well, a man can wish."
Gil kissed him again and Nick reached up to the handsome face, brushing his hand over the sunburned cheek. He really did want to get out of here.
"I'll ask the doctor," Grissom promised, interpreting the needy look correctly.
"Thanks."
"See you tonight. Behave."
Nick grimaced and made a shooing motion. Grissom smiled and left the room.
The moment the door closed, Nick was alone again, feeling bored. His eyes strayed to the books and magazine Grissom and Warrick had dropped off two days ago. While he didn't fall asleep after a paragraph or two anymore, he didn't feel very motivated to read. So it was back to watching TV.
Nick sighed. Didn't matter what put him to sleep anyway.

* * *

Damn, it felt good to be home.
Even if the drive from the hospital had tired him out. Even if the few steps to front door had depleted the rest of his reserves. Even if he felt like world-class jelly and was about to collapse.
But he was home.
Strong but gentle hands firmly steered him over to the couch onto which he sank with a wince and a lot of relief. A blanket was suddenly covering him and Nick only now felt the cold of his shaking body.
"Thanks."
Grissom smiled. "Want something to drink? Ice tea? Soda?"
"Uh, tea. Non-iced version. I'm kinda cold."
His lover nodded. "Blood loss takes a while. I'll be right back."
True to his word, Grissom carried over a mug of tea a few minutes later and placed it into Nick's hands.
Stokes sipped at it, glad to be here, glad to have Grissom with him, glad just to be alive.
"You up for food?"
He blinked. "Uhm. Not really. Not hungry."
Grissom looked at him, expression intense, and Nick suddenly didn't like what he saw there.
"You okay, Gil?" he asked gently.
Grissom didn't answer right away, but he finally nodded. "Yes, I am."
Liar, Nick thought. Something was bothering the older man and it had to be something connected to what had happened.
"Okay."
He would give in for now. He would give Grissom room. Time for the cross-examination later on. For now, he just had to get his strength back.

* * *
 
The thunder storm had swept over Las Vegas like the proverbial force of nature it was. Rain came down in torrents, flooding the streets, and for about an hour, traffic was caught in water from above and below. The sky was an inky black, the lightning spectacular, and the cool wind swept away the heat of the day - for all the time it took for the clouds to pass and the sun to evaporate the rain again. But while it lasted, Nick Stokes stood at the windows, watching the spectacle with a fascinated expression on his face.
He had been home for two weeks and he had healed. He was still not back in shape, which showed itself in shortness of breath because his lung still needed healing time, and twinges from his mending ribs.
A wild flicker of lightning lit up the sky and he reflexively closed his eyes. Thunder rolled across the sky and the rain strengthened again, obscuring the road and whoever was still brave or crazy enough to be outside.
Nick leaned against the wall next to the window, eyes still riveted to the outside. He felt strangely at peace with himself, despite the violence raging outside that kept every sensible person inside. He missed work, he missed the guys, but somehow, he wasn't as restless as the last time he had been forced off work because of an injury. It wasn't the near-death experience; it was a change that happened within the last months. Even his mother, whom he had talked with several times over the last days, had remarked on a change she claimed she could hear.
Calmer.
Settled.
Balanced.
He smiled. Well, maybe it was Grissom. Gil tended to balance a person. He was like an anchor. Nick had found what he had been looking for and he wanted to believe that it was the same for his lover.
The door opening and closing again drew him out of his thoughts and he turned. Nick nearly laughed out loud as he took in the dripping, squishing, wet-to-the-bones appearance of one Gil Grissom. Nothing was dry anymore; everything was soaked through and through, the hair plastered to the head, water dripping down onto the floor. Well, more cascading than dripping, he decided.
"Is it raining?" he teased.
Grissom shot him a frown. "Lightly," he answered, sarcasm in his voice.
"Hold on, don't move. I'll getcha a towel."
Nick shook his head, walking over to the bathroom as quickly as his still healing body allowed. He took several towels and came back, holding them out to his lover. Grissom took one and toweled off his hair, then started to peel out of the clothes were he stood. No sense in spreading puddles all over.
When he was finally naked, towels wrapped around him, shivering, Nick shooed him off to the shower.
"Leave the clothes," Grissom told him sternly as he made moves to pick them up. "Your ribs won't take bending over kindly."
Nick grimaced, one arm already instinctively supporting the weakened abdomen, but he complied.
"I'll make tea."
Grissom nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came out again, clad in a pair of sweat pants and sweatshirt Nick had brought him after making tea, he cleaned up the soggy mess. Nick felt bad watching him and unable to help, but Gil was right: his ribs would protest.
It was the reason why they hadn't had any closer contact than a kiss or a light cuddle. Hugs resulted in pain and at night, Nick could only sleep because of the painkillers - and on his back. He got his most sleep the moment the medication kicked in, but he still dozed now and then throughout the day.
Holding out a mug of steaming tea, he smiled at Grissom. "You took a boat to get home?"
"Something like it."
The rain had already lessened and the way it looked, and since he had been witness to many such sudden rainstorms before, Nick knew it would be over in another hour max.
"You could have waited for it to clear."
"Yes, I could have."
"But you didn't," Nick finished, smiling.
Grissom drank his tea in silence. Nick had decided on ice tea and he was still looking through the rainy window now and then, checking on the weather.
"You have another appointment today," Gil finally broke the companionable silence.
Nick nodded. "Yeah. In two hours."
"Shall I drive?"
"No, you go and get some sleep. I'll take a cab."
Gil didn't argue. Nick loved that about him. He accepted Nick's decisions. Taking a cab made sense; getting Grissom to drive him to and back from the hospital, missing out on sleep, then catching a nap if he could, didn't.
"I'm going in early tonight," the older man announced.
"Sure. Want me to pick something up food-wise?"
"Well, if you run by that Japanese place by accident, yes."
The sly look in the blue eyes made Nick laugh.
"Sure. I think I can cram it into my already really tight schedule."
Grissom walked over to the kitchen sink to put the mug inside and as he passed Nick, he dropped a kiss on his lover's forehead. "Thank you."
"Go, shoo, sleep!" Nick waved him away with one hand.
Outside, the thunder grumbled across the sky, but the light show had almost disappeared. Another ten minutes, the graying sky would be light again. Nick walked over to the phone and ordered his taxi to pick him up on time, then just stretched out on the couch, the TV on low volume, and entertained himself until it was time to leave while Grissom caught up on his sleep.

       * * *
 
"Gil?"
Grissom looked over the rims of his glasses. "Yes?"
"We gotta talk."
He frowned as he met the determined expression on Nick's face, took in the set features, and he lowered the Forensic Casebook he had been studying. He knew that expression and he knew that whatever evasive tactic he tried, it wouldn't work. Nick was a man with a mission and Grissom wasn't sure he really wanted to find out what that mission was, but he would.
"Yes?" he asked.
Nick didn't sit down, just stood there and looked at him. He seemed... troubled? Upset? Anxious? It was hard to tell.
"I talked to Greg last night."
Sanders had been over at Nick's place and the two men had wiled away the time with playing some games and generally behaving like kids, until Nick had been ready to drop dead due to exhaustion. Grissom hadn't been there the whole time. He had left ten minutes after the two younger men had gotten into their first game. While it was a wonderful sight to see Nick laugh and cheer and egg Sanders about his triumph on another level, it wasn't exactly an environment Gil could partake in, nor study quietly. This was Nick's world and he respected that.
"He told me that you talked to Nandi."
Nandi Kidja Kunene. Yes. Manager of The Shaman Casino and Hotel, and a shaman herself. He had thought his call and later visit would have gone unnoticed. He had been wrong.
"You asked about death."
Grissom took of his glasses and carefully folded them, then laid them on the table. "I had to ask, Nick. You were dying."
"Yeah, well, miracle as it is, I'm alive."
He winced slightly at the sarcasm.
"Sorry," Nick murmured and stepped closer. He finally lowered himself onto the couch chair next to the two-seater Grissom occupied. "It's just... I didn't die. Why did you ask?"
"Because it could have happened. You know what the outcome would have been."
"I'd have pulled a Highlander and come back."
Grissom raised an eyebrow and Nick frowned slightly, then realization hit him.
"Oh."
"Yes, oh. It would have... complicated things."
"Yeah."
Grissom took his lover's hand and squeezed it. "We ignored this for too long. It can happen. Suddenly. And neither of us would know how to deal. With me, it's easier. Well, right now anyway. With you, you'd lose a lot of time. Age becomes you, Nick," he teased.
Nick grinned, dimples appearing on his features. "Thanks, I think."
"I think even the worst CSI would see the difference. You at twenty-six... while a delightful sight, you would stand out like a sore thumb."
Stokes chuckle, then sobered. "So you asked for the emergency plan?"
"Yes. There is actually one. Greg is aware of it, too."
"We'd have to leave?"
"Yes."
Nick sighed and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was a new smile in them. "Well, let's hope it won't be for some time."
Grissom leaned forward and cupped his face with his free hand. "Let's hope," he echoed.